


That's Christmas to Me

by pillarsofdreams



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: A few cuss words, A little bit of angst, Alternate Universe - Not Video Bloggers, Business Trip, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Magic, Christmas Movie AU, Complete, Happy Ending, I barely understand, I don't know how to write half of their personalities tbh, I use everyone's real names oops (except Quackity's lol), Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, M/M, Mistletoe, Not Beta Read, Strangers to Lovers, The exact opposite of slow burn, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, business lingo, fast burn, how many times will Clay describe George's eyes? TBD, not a spoiler because this is literally the plot of a cliche christmas movie, oh yeah baby, people will be acting ooc, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:28:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 28,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27909013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pillarsofdreams/pseuds/pillarsofdreams
Summary: "Something has changed since you've arrived. It's like there's something in the air that I can't describe. Like magic.""And is that a good thing?""It's the best feeling I've felt for a long time."-Clay Williams is a businessman first and a human second. When he's assigned to go to the small sleepy town "Holly Grove" to obtain an important signature, he believes it'll be a simple in and out affair. His plans are flipped on their head when he meets George Davidson, the facilitator of the town's animal shelter, and the other characters around town.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 29
Kudos: 145





	1. 4 days until Christmas

**Author's Note:**

> (I told my mother I'd never write fanfic for MC youtubers again yet here I am)
> 
> This is your daily reminder to not be an ass if you decide to ship real people. That means be respectful to the content creators and don't shove any ship material (including this fic) in their face. Also please respect me and DO NOT send this to them.
> 
> I don't actually ship the two together irl

Clay was always the type to know what he wanted and to take it at any chance he got. He knew he was destined for greatness because that’s all he knew. His family was great, his school, his friends, and even his grades. Mediocre was never in his vocabulary because he felt he couldn’t afford to be so himself. Life was too precious for him to slow down. His life plan was to work his ass off when he was young so he could retire young and then achieve all of the other goals one would have in life like finding a great wife and having a great family. It was all gonna be great. 

There were other people in his life who didn’t agree with his outlook on life, including his mother who wanted to know who constantly pestered him about when she would get grandkids from him. She just didn’t understand Clay’s preferred lifestyle, and she would constantly nag at him, saying he was wasting away his youth by working all of the time. He was just working now so he could enjoy the rest of his life without having to worry about money or occupational responsibilities anymore later. She tried to convince him to take a vacation every once in a while, but he always wiggled his way out of it. “I just have a hard deadline I need to meet next week,” it was. Another was, “I’m a part of a collaborative team and want to make sure I pull my weight.” Everyone took a vacation or the day off to go party with friends, but Clay was not everyone. He refused to be.

Tension flowed out of his body after he cracked his back, a sigh coming from his mouth. Sometimes his work was hard, but he always saw it as one more day until he achieved his goals. Already, many of his bosses had told him that he was doing very well for himself at such a young age, 26 to be precise. He already had a spacious corner office, a hefty paycheck, and from the whispers of gossip he would hear around the water fountain, it was only uphill for him from here. “Clay,” a voice said, popping their head into his corner office. “Schlatt wants to see you,” Karl, the floor’s receptionist, and unofficial secretary, told him with an unreadable expression. Usually, Karl was always quite chipper and wore his emotions transparently. Curiosity and a bit of worry spiked in Clay. 

“Any idea what he wants?” he asked skeptically. Karl didn’t meet his eyes.

“Yes, sir. But he told me specifically not to tell you,” Karl said, not meeting his eyes. Now that worried really Clay. He hurried out of his office and headed towards the elevator. Schlatt, the company’s president, remained pretty detached from the other workers. He never engaged in social events or even chit chat in the break room. Usually, whenever he would call employees into his office, it was to fire them. That was what worried Clay, but he hadn’t done anything wrong lately. To his knowledge. He knew he hadn’t done anything to warrant him being fired.

“I was told Schlatt wanted to see me?” Clay told the receptionist once he stepped out of the elevator. She nodded and started typing on his computer. It gave Clay a second to admire the top floor of the high rise which held only the president’s office and the CEO’s office. In a perfect world, Clay would have one of these offices, with a magnificent view of the city below. One day. But, usually, these spots of power were either inherited or outsourced. Rarely would they pick a lower-ranking employee who was already working within the company. 

“Mr. Schlatt is ready for you,” she told him, motioning towards the door on her right. Clay nodded his head as a curt ‘thanks’ and found himself making sure his jacket and tie were straight before heading into the office. 

Clay knocked on the door, then walked in to see the office was just as magnificent and grand as he imagined. It was a huge office, probably about as big as a hockey rink, with marble floors, tall ceilings, and huge floor to ceiling windows that showed a picturesque view of the city. But he also noticed that it was strangely unhomely and impersonal, which made Clay a little uncomfortable. Schlatt had probably about 15 years on Clay, and he had no pictures or decorations at all adorning his office. Even Clay had a picture of his family from when he was younger on his desk. This office could belong to anyone. 

“Ah, Mr. Williams. It’s nice to see you,” Schlatt said formally with little genuineness. Clay paid no attention, feeling his nerves coiling and twisting inside of him enough. Rarely is he ever this nervous. His life had been filled with definition and purpose, never anxiety or unsureness. It was almost a foreign feeling to him. “Please, sit.” He did so, sitting in the chair Schlatt motioned to. 

The president opened one drawer of his desk and pulled out a manila folder without preamble. “You’ve proved to be a strong and worthy employee of the company, Clay. You’ve achieved a lot at your age, and you should be proud,” he told him which made Clay internally sigh with relief. Unless there was some cruel deity above pulling a fast one on him, it sounded like he wasn't going to be fired. At least not today. “Executive and I agreed that we think you will be the perfect person for a certain job. A bit of fieldwork, you could say.” Schaltt turned the folder around and opened it for Clay. The first thing in the folder was a picture of what looked to be a homey small-town diner. Not necessarily retro but homely. Quaint was the best word to describe it. Clay turned it horizontally so he could properly see it, and he noticed it was called “L’Manberg,” whatever type of name that was. 

“I don’t understand.” His eyebrows furrowed at the picture, and he started to scan through the other papers in the folder, taking it as a go-ahead when Schlatt didn’t stop him. There was what seemed to be a driver’s license photo of a young brunette man around Clay’s age on the next page along with his information. 

“This is the L’Manberg diner in Holly Grove, New Hampshire. It’s a small town, but if our marketing is correct, the town can be a large tourist destination within maybe even 5 years. Our sources and scouts have seen potential in this restaurant and area, and we want to franchise it. But, we need the rights to it. If we can open a few more restaurants under the same name in the surrounding area, we hope that it will bring more attention to the town so we can open more businesses and monopolize the area.” He paused to give Clay a moment to process and to read over the file.

Wilbur Soot  
Age: 28  
Birthplace: Suffolk, England 

It went on to talk more about Wilbur’s personal information, going much more in-depth than Clay would have expected. “You’re very persuasive, Clay,” he said, obviously trying to flatter him. “To franchise L’Manberg, we need to get Mr. Soot to sign off on these forms. So far, he’s ignored all of our emails and calls, so we figure the best course of action is to get someone to meet him in person. Talk to him about what’s in it for him. Charm him.” Clay lifted an eyebrow at the president, reaching the last section of papers in the folder which was the form Wilbur would have to sign. It was a thick stack of papers, probably airtight with a lot of tiny print. Clay wasn’t a stranger to how these sort of business transactions worked, and it sounded like Wilbur possibly knew as well if he wasn’t returning any of their emails or calls. 

“What’s in it for me?”

Schlatt smirked, obviously liking the response. “You’re thinking like a real businessman, Clay. I like that.” Clay didn’t visibly respond, showing that he wasn’t looking for praise. If there was one thing that he had learned from his time being in business, it’s that there is always a right way and a wrong way to act. You can never show that you can be taken advantage of. “How about a new, better office and a shiny new promotion? If you succeed, of course.” Clay couldn’t help the smile that crept onto his face at the idea. Schlatt noticed immediately. “I think I have my answer. Pleasure doing business with you.” 

-

That was how Clay ended up in a company car on the way to seemingly nowhere. Seriously. For the past 40 minutes of the drive, all that was in Clay’s sight were dead trees and cows. Not one building, person, or even car in sight. It was a relief that his driver wasn’t asleep at the wheel. Clay wouldn’t blame him because so far, everything about the trip had been very drab. He liked the city a lot better than in the countryside. The hustle and bustle of the people and setting surrounding him kept him motivated and living in a small town in the middle of nowhere sounded boring and sleepy. 

He glanced at the GPS screen on the car’s dashboard seeing that he still had 30 minutes of drive left, so he went to check his emails. Mostly, it was Schlatt’s assistant emailing him a virtual copy of the files that needed to be signed and emails from Karl about his reservations at the one inn in the town. It was someplace called “the Chrysanthemum Inn”,” which made Clay snort out loud when he first saw the name. This town really was pushing the whole “ideal, picturesque small town that you’d only see in the movies” vibe. He couldn’t deny it that the inn did have raving reviews on Google, though. And it did look cute, like an old-timey bed and breakfast. 

Clay spent the rest of the car ride researching about the town, ultimately ending up with the same conclusion as he had when he had first gotten into the car. Boring. It was small and compact, with pretty much everything centralized around the center of the town, with the one inn on the outskirts, one mom and pop grocery store, two gas stations, and only L’Manberg to get something to eat besides a McDonald’s closer to the highway. There couldn’t be many people living there, and most of them were probably old and of retiring age. It almost made Clay regret taking the job, but maybe it would make his job easier. Wilbur probably wanted to get out of the town as soon as possible (if he were anything like Clay), and some easy cash from Clay’s company would help him do just that. This was going to be too easy.

Schlatt had told him that he was to stay a few days past Christmas unless Wilbur signs the forms before then, and the idea of not being able to spend Christmas with his family for the first time was a little sad for Clay. But not devastating. Ever since his youngest sister went to college abroad, Christmas at his house became a lot less… mandatory. His younger brother was busy with his internship in California that he couldn’t come home for both Thanksgiving and Christmas, his other sister worked as an ER nurse and couldn’t even make it to Christmas half of the time because of her hours, and it was sometimes hard for his younger sister to be able to travel all the way back home for a few weeks only to fly back. His mother would understand. Besides, she had already demanded that he come by her house the moment he gets back from his trip. He was already working on his “I’m really tired from traveling. But I’ll come by another night for sure,” excuse. 

The next time Clay looked up, he was surprised and relieved to actually see a building. Granted, it was just the McDonald’s that was closer to the exit, but it meant that they were close. He locked his phone to put it in his pocket before looking over the forms once more. Oh yeah, he could totally sell this deal to someone. It was practically undeniable to someone without a business or law degree. 

“We’re here, sir,” his driver informed him, distracting Clay from his reading. He had been on page 9. Quickly, but neatly, he stuffed the papers into his case and went to get out of the car. The driver had already gotten out his carry on and set it on the ground, closing the trunk. 

“Thank you, Christopher,” Clay said, handing him a $20 bill as a tip. God knows he would’ve fallen asleep if he had to drive down that long stretch of nothing. 

Christopher tipped his hat in thanks, pocketing the bill. “If you need to be picked up earlier than planned, please let Mr. Jacobs know, and I will be here within 24 hours.” Clay nodded in understanding, letting him leave to get back into the car. “And Mr. Williams. Merry Christmas.” Before he could even take a step towards the inn, a man came out to greet him. 

“Hello, you must be Clay,” the brunette said, grabbing his luggage with one hand and outstretching his other hand for Clay to shake. “Welcome to the Chrysanthemum Inn! My name is Nick, and I’m sort of the manager as well. So if you ever need anything, here’s my number.” He was handed a blank business card with Nick’s name and phone number scribbled on it. “The other owner is Darryl. He’s the cook, so you might not see him around. His muffins are to die for!” Nick raved as they stepped into the first room of the building which was the equivalent of the lobby. There was an ornately carved wooden desk facing the entrance decorated with garland and lights for the season. A pale yellow color was painted on the walls of the inn, keeping the atmosphere cozy and intimate, but mostly the walls were covered with other Christmas decorations and shelves and antique knick-knacks. The smell of gingerbread was prevalent throughout the room, almost choking Clay with how strong it was. 

“So, uh, you own the place?” he questioned, unbelieving that two dudes, and at least one of them being around his age, maybe younger, owning such an… old fashioned hotel. Possibly a couple of grandmas. Not a young adult male. 

“Yep! Darryl and I practically built this place from the ground up. Sometimes, business is slow but can’t complain. This is your first visit to Holly Grove, right? You’ll love the town!” 

“Yeah, sure of it,” Clay mumbled. Hopefully, Nick didn’t hear him, and if he did, he didn’t make it known. 

“Here, I’ll give you a tour of the Inn, then get you your key,” Nick offered, planning to leave the luggage behind the front desk, but Clay stopped him before he could step back around the front.

“Actually, I’m quite tired from my traveling, and I’d rather rest a while if that’s okay? Can I go ahead and get my key?” he asked, feigning regret. He just hoped his room didn’t smell this strongly of gingerbread; he felt himself getting light-headed.

Nicked flushed and began apologizing for his forwardness. “Oh, yes! Of course. Sorry if I’m a bit excited. We don’t get a ton of business this close to Christmas because everyone is getting ready to travel to go home. Practically no one travels to come here,” he explained, staring at a large book they kept on the desk. It surprised Clay that a computer wasn’t used to keep track of the reservations. Were they really that old fashioned? “Okay, looks like your expenses have already been taken care of, and all you need are your keys.”

Nick stepped out from behind the desk, Clay’s luggage in tow, and motioned for Clay to follow him. They went up a large staircase that was close to the entrance, and Nick stopped in front of the door that read “2.” He used a key, an actual key, to open it before removing it and handing it to Clay. 

The style of the bedroom didn’t stray too far from the decoration of the main lobby with antique, wooden furniture, a floral bedspread covering the queen size bed and curtains pulled back to let the daylight in. There was a small tv on top of the dresser that was across from the bed as well as another door that led to, what he presumed would be, the bathroom. “I hope you enjoy your stay. Just let me know if you need anything,” he said before leaving Clay’s room. 

The businessman sighed, exploring the room a bit, or as much as he could “explore” it because it was quite small. He stopped in front of the window and looked out of it to see quite a nice view. There was a small lake next to the inn with a dock to walk out on, surrounded by trees. It probably would have been more beautiful in the fall or even in the summer when the trees had colorful leaves, but there was something peaceful about the scene in front of him. Something he never could find before in the city or in his hectic life. 

Clay let himself indulge in the view for a second longer before he closed the curtains with a sigh. He needed to keep focused on his job, what he came here to do. But he was also tired. There was no sound, no white noise like there was constantly whenever he would lay down to rest in his apartment back home. It was strange to not hear the sound of cars or sirens or everything else he had gotten used to hearing. Only silence and a sliver of light coming from in between the two curtains filled the space. He slipped out of his shoes and his coat before pulling back the blankets and laying down to rest.

-

His eyes opened to the darkness surrounding him. Waking up in the silence in an unfamiliar place had him disoriented for a second as memories came back to him. He let out a deep groan, running his hands down his face, remembering where he was and why he was there. Carefully, he reached his arm out, searching blindly in the dark for the lamp he vaguely remembered being on the side table to the right of the bed. When he turned it on, he had to turn away quickly because it ended up shining right in his eyes. 

After he let his eyes adjust to the added brightness for a second, he grabbed his phone to see that it was past 7 at night meaning he slept for 3 hours. God damn, his sleeping schedule was fucked. With another groan, he swung his legs off the bed and stretched his body, hearing his neck crack, making relief flood through his body. He debated if he should change into the set of pajamas he brought and just go to bed, but his stomach grumbled in protest at the idea. It made him realize that he hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning because he had skipped lunch to pack for the spontaneous business trip. 

He cursed to himself, praying that L’Manberg would still be open because he really did not feel like eating tea cakes and gingerbread cookies off of his grandma’s china plates at the inn. To his luck, he found that the diner was still open from a simple google search on his phone, but it would be closing at 8, so he had a little over half an hour and it’d take him 15 minutes to walk there. 

Quickly, he unzipped his suitcase, throwing his nice work clothes out and probably on the ground, grabbing his green hoodie and tossing it over his head both to hide the wrinkles of his dress shirt had gained from him tossing and turning his sleep and also to hopefully keep him semi-warm in the cold winter air. He hastily put on his dress shoes and left his room, locking the door behind him.

The lobby had changed from when he had first seen it that afternoon. The lights were strangely out like the electricity had gone out, but the lamp in his room had worked? Instead, the Inn was lit up by multiple candles scattered throughout on the shelves and on every surface throughout the lobby. It was a strange choice, but Clay couldn’t dwell too much on it if he wanted to reach the diner in time. He hastily left the Inn, ignoring Nick’s inquisitions as to why he was rushing outside. 

Business strategies ran through his mind as he followed the directions on his phone to get to the diner. He figured that maybe he should take a slower, more surefire route to convince Wilbur of what he wanted to do, in case it would be harder than Clay anticipated. He would have to make friends with Wilbur, learn more about his personality and his story. Then, he could alter his proposition and cater it to what Wilbur would want. He had plenty of time. 

Luckily, the diner came into sight with 15 minutes to spare, and he ran across the street and into the diner, making quite an entrance. Luckily, no one was in the diner beside the man Clay recognized as Wilbur from his photo in his file wiping down the counter and a blonde, younger-looking boy sitting at one of the barstools who had been talking his ear off before Clay came crashing in. They both looked at Clay wearing dress pants and dress shoes with a casual lime green hoodie looking unnaturally frazzled. Great first impression.

“Um, hi,” Clay greeted bashfully, smiling awkwardly. “Are you guys open?”

“Yeah mate. We are,” the blonde spoke up, still obviously taken aback by Clay’s sudden appearance. He got up from his seat and motioned Clay to take it, which he did. He was handed a menu by Wilbur who then went into the back. Clay took a moment to observe his surroundings, admiring the rustic and simplistic diner that had been decorated for Christmas with garland and a Christmas tree in the corner. “My name’s Tommy, by the way. That dude was Wilbur. He owns the joint but went back to the kitchen because our cook, Quackity, already left for the night,” the blonde informed him after he walked around to the other side of the counter. “What can I get you to drink?”

“Coffee with sugar, no cream,” Clay requested, pursuing the menu. Tommy raised an eyebrow at the request for coffee at almost 8 at night, but he bit his tongue. 

“So, this is your first time in town?” Tommy asked, pouring his cup of coffee and sliding him a small dish filled with various sugar packets. He put two in his cup. 

“Yeah. I come from Boston. My name is Clay Williams.”

“What brings you to a small sleepy town like ours?”

He paused. “Recommendation.” Partial honesty was probably his best bet for the time being. 

Tommy hummed, watching Clay with intentful eyes as if he knew that there was more to Clay’s visit than he led on. Clay was surprised at how easily Tommy could read him. He looked like he was like… 14. The boy looked like he was about to say something more, probably ask another question, but the jingling of the bell, signaling another person coming in, stopped him. Clay turned his head to see the man taking off his hat and gloves that guarded him against the cold outside. 

What immediately caught Clay’s eyes were the man’s red cheeks that contrasted the rest of his skin that could rival freshly fallen snow. He was cute in a teddy bear sort of way with big brown eyes and an eternal smile that lit up his whole face. There was a sort of playfulness and joy that was evident in his features that Clay wasn’t well acquainted with. 

“Hey, Georgey!” Tommy greeted before Clay could even take his eyes off of him. 

“Hello, Tommy. Has the day treated you well?” He took a seat next to Clay, the smile never leaving his face. He couldn’t help but wonder just how many British people were in this town.

“Eh, could’ve been better. I’ve got two buffoons who decided it was a good idea to come in right before closing that I have to take care of. By the way, what do you want to eat, Boston?” 

“An order of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast with strawberry jelly will suffice,” he told him, handing the younger his menu. His order was then repeated by the boy, just much louder so Wilbur could hear it from the back. Clay found he had to plug his ears because of how Tommy practically yelled it directly into his ear. He turned at the sound of George’s airy laugh to see the man smiling at him, his hands also over his ears. Maybe it was just the time of year getting to him, but his laugh reminded him distinctly of silver bells. 

“And what can I get for you?” Tommy asked George. 

“Just a cup of tea would be lovely,” he said after bringing his hands back to rest on the counter. Even though he had turned to look at Tommy, Clay still found himself entranced and unable to take his eyes off or George for the second time that night. He would have to figure something out when he got back to his room as he was never one to let his emotions run his life. He had enough of that during his pubescent years. 

Tommy’s gaze flicked between the two, obviously noticing Clay’s immediate draw towards him and, even though Clay didn’t even know him, maybe George’s immediate draw towards him. “God you two are so weird,” Tommy commented which immediately garnered both of their attention. Clay was confused, a bit appalled because usually, waiters had more respect towards customers if they wanted a good tip, but George looked nothing but amused. “First your desire for caffeine at 8 at night and now this.” He subsequently left to make George’s tea, leaving the two with a sense of some sort of privacy. 

“Feel free to ignore him. Tommy is always like this. Never changes,” he laughed again, making Clay smile. Never had he liked the sound of someone’s laugh so much. “George,” he introduced, holding out his hand. 

Clay took it gladly, feeling the bite of the cold that continued to linger on his skin. “I’m Clay.” 

The two continued to small talk amicably with George learning why Clay was in town (he gave him the same answer he gave Tommy), and Clay learned that George worked at the animal shelter that was in town. There wasn’t a large staff, or really a staff at all, so a lot of the responsibilities of running the shelter fell on his shoulders as well as some volunteers who were a few and far between. Before Clay could ask more about it, he had a plate of food in front of him, and George had a cup of hot tea in front of him. 

“God, it’s sort of embarrassing how British I can be,” he said with the rosy color back in his cheeks as he took his first sip. Clay couldn’t help his grin watching George enjoy his drink while also trying to be subtle about it as if he were drinking something he wasn’t supposed to. 

“It is sort of weird,” Clay began in between bites of his food (which was really freaking good, he had to admit). “I mean, I’ve met a total of,” he paused to count on his fingers for effect, “4 people so far while I’ve been in town and 3 out of 4 of them are British. How did that happen in some random small town in New Hampshire?”

“Interesting story, actually,” Tommy butted in, even though the question was obviously asked George. Clay had to keep from pouting as the boy began to ramble because he had wanted to hear George speak more. He did so in a way with airy little laughs in between words and lines that formed near his eyes when he smiled. Tommy snapped him out of his George-related reverie, for what seemed like the fifth time that night, as he explained some elaborate, fabricated conspiracy theory about how the British were going to reclaim America for her majesty and that L’Manberg (the diner itself, not even Holly Grove) would become the new capital. 

“Tommy, stop it before you scare him away,” a new voice said, walking out of the back. Being so up close to Wilbur now made him realize how much difference there was between the Wilbur in front of him and the photo of Wilbur that was in his file back at the Inn. There was something much older and mature in the face in front of Clay. Something almost worn. “You know how Americans get about their patriotism and nationalism. One threat and you suddenly have the Feds knocking at your door.” Tommy blanched at the owner’s warning, and Clay couldn’t tell if he actually believed what Wilbur had said or maybe he was just a really good actor. “Excuse Tommy. You probably don’t know this yet, but him and Toby, my other waiter, are sort of a package deal. I’m Wilbur, by the way. I know he told you my name, but I thought I’d introduce myself formally.” 

“Oh stop with the regal front, Will. You don’t have a business-oriented bone in you,” Tommy criticized, smacking his arm in jester. 

“Clay,” he introduced himself to Wilbur, filing away his apparent lack of business finesse in the back of his mind. He was so enamored with George that he had momentarily forgotten about why he was in this ghost town. The sooner he got Wilbur’s signature on the dotted line, the quicker he could leave. Maybe he could snag George’s number before he left. As an early Christmas present to himself. 

“Oh George, while you're here, I was wondering if you needed anything for the adoption fair,” Wilbur said.  
“Oh yeah! I’ll have to finalize my order, and I’ll get that to you asap, but if you need some time, it’ll be a very similar order to last year.” Wilbur nodded in acknowledgment, writing something down on a sticky note and folding it to put it in his pocket. Tommy noticed that Clay’s plate and both of their mugs were now empty, and he took them into the back room. “How long are you staying? The Mistletoe festival is happening in two days. It’s just that if you’re planning on leaving before then, I highly recommend you stay until then. The festival is really special to the town, and everyone goes all out,” he explained to Clay, eyes lighting up at the thought of the town-wide celebration. Clay couldn’t help but cringe slightly at the thought of something as cheesy as a Christmas party thrown by the town. The only image that came to mind was a crappy get-together probably at the nearby high school’s auditorium or at the town hall with crappy, haphazard decorations along with a maybe a boring Christmas tree. There could be punch or hors d'oeuvres, but they were never as boozy as anyone ever hoped. 

He plastered on a fake smile, not wanting to upset George and unfortunately having to tell the truth. “Maybe. I’m just sort of dealing with how things go, at the moment, but I may be staying until after Christmas.” His explanation seemed to affect the other two in his company negatively, but Wilbur quickly changed the subject. 

“What Georgey isn’t telling you is that his adoption fair is the morning of. It’s something he works really hard on and should be proud of, and I know it’d mean a lot to him if you went. Even just as moral support. And besides, who doesn’t like puppies and kittens dressed in Santa hats?” Clay turned to George to see him flustered and bashful, speechless as to how to refute Wilbur’s words. 

“Oh is it embarrassing George hour?” Tommy practically ran towards them from the back room, hands still wet from washing the dishes. But before he could speak another word, Wilbur slapped his hand over the younger’s mouth making his words muffled as he struggled. 

Clay watched with a raised eyebrow at the interaction before he stood up from his stool. “Okay, I think I’ll be leaving and heading back to the inn now.” He dug into his pocket to pull the needed amount of pills out of his wallet and left it on the counter telling Tommy to keep the change who greedily snatched up the bills and counted the money. George followed Clay’s lead, doing the same as well as thanking them for staying open a little past their designated closing time.

“Anything for you, Gogy,” Tommy flattered, about to stuff the wad of cash from both of the customers in his pocket, but Wilbur snatched his wrist and then the money, leaving Tommy to squawk. 

“Of course, Gogy,” Wilbur said with a smile while calmly fending off Tommy who seemed determined to get back his wad of cash. “And, Clay. If you ever need anything, always feel free to come by! We’ll probably be seeing each other again, but either way, I hope you enjoy your stay.” Clay gave him an amicable smile, the irony of just how much they probably would be seeing each other popping up in his mind. It was the only reason he was there. 

“Want me to walk you to the inn?” George offered as they exited the diner and into the cold air. 

“I’d like that.”


	2. 3 days until Christmas pt. 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginning of Clay's second day in town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the chapter: We Need a Little Christmas by the Glee Cast   
> -  
> smallest tw for people worrying over someone skipping meals because of stress. It's a blink and you'll miss it sort of thing, but I wanted everyone to know just in case. Please take care of yourselves ♡

Clay literally woke to a literal cock crowing. He groaned, convinced that this town couldn’t become any more stereotypical if it tried as he rolled over to check the time on his phone. 7 am. God, he hated this town. Once awake, Clay couldn’t fall back to sleep, so he figured he should make the most of his time and get a bit of work done. Even though he wasn’t at the office, this wasn’t a vacation for him. 

After doing his thing and getting ready in the bathroom, he went to get some work done on his laptop. It was strange not being in the office, an environment he had easily become accustomed to, but he found working in his pajamas in his room relaxing in its own different way. Even if the walls were a hideous green color. 

It was 10 in the morning when he heard a commotion outside in the hallway. The noise of pounding footsteps and whispered yells brought him out of his work trance, and he decided to go and investigate. Like when he had first stepped into the inn for the first time, the first thing he noticed was the overbearing smell of the gingerbread that filled every inch of the halls. The second thing he noticed was the back of a figure that looked a lot like Nick running down the hall away from him chasing something with a tail. The third thing was the body that slammed into him, practically knocking him to the floor, but he luckily stood his ground, hands grabbing the arms of the person who ran into him to steady them both. 

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry. My dog got loose and me and-” George stopped his rambling, noticing that he had run into Clay who was still in his pajamas. His eyes widened to the size of saucers, and his cheeks flushed pale. “Clay?! Did we wake you? Fuck, I’m so sorry if we did-”

Clay cut him off before he could continue his rambling, “George, don’t worry. I was awake already and came to see what was going on because I heard the yelling.”

It seemed to relieve George, at least a little, and he visibly relaxed. “Okay, good. I came over to talk with Darryl about my catering order for the adoption fair with Bruno, and next thing I know, he decided he wants to take a lap around the halls,” he explained breathily, his eyes glimmering with a fondness that hinted to Clay that this wasn’t Bruno’s first instant of getting a different type of “runs.” 

As if on cue, Nick walked back around the corner with a large load of puppy in his hands. Bruno panted happily, his tail hitting Nick’s side with every wag. “Thanks for the help, George,” Nick bit out sarcastically, setting the German Shepard on the ground so George could attach his leash to his collar. The dog subsequently laid down at George’s feet either to be obedient or because he was tired. George reached down to pet the dog’s head which made him lick his hand. 

“Sorry, Nick. I ran into an old friend while I was behind you,” George said with a playful smile. 

“You two know each other?”

“Eh, sorta,” Clay answered for both of them. “We met at L’Manberg last night.”

“He also met Wilbur and Tommy.”

“You already met Tommy? I’m so sorry,” Nick said seriously which made George giggle. The dog at his feet perked up and stood at the sound. 

“I better go get Bruno back to the shelter. We have to get him ready for tomorrow,” he said, about to turn and take his leave before Clay stopped him. 

“Oh, I thought he was your dog,” he spoke up, finding that he wanted to talk to George at least a little more. 

“Oh, no. He’s going up for adoption at the fair tomorrow. But, I guess in a way, you could say that they’re all like my dogs.” 

Clay stopped him once again before George could leave, wincing at the thought of how desperate he probably seemed. “Wait, are you going to L’Manberg today? For lunch?” 

George smiled, fiddling slightly with the leash in his hands. “How about I meet you there in an hour?” he offered which made butterflies erupt in Clay’s stomach. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt this way. Probably when he was only a kid with one of those playground crushes, but something in his gut told him that this was going to be a lot different. Maybe this town wasn’t so bad.

“Sounds like a plan.”

Clay watched the smile on his face stay and he walked away with Bruno trotting along beside him obediently. Nick whistled next to him, commenting with a “the homoromantic tension is real between you two,” which earned him a half assed side glare. 

About 50 minutes later, Clay had brushed his teeth again and had changed into the most casual set of clothes he had which was a pair of jeans, a white t-shirt, his hoodie from last night, and dress shoes. Maybe he hadn’t been thinking too practically when packing because most of his luggage was filled with dress shirts and slacks. In a casual small town like this, it would be very likely that he’d be ostracized if he dressed like that every day. One of his goals for the day would be to obtain some more clothing because the clothes in his closet would probably be useless to him as long as he was here.

Something else he needed to work on was figuring out how to get Wilbur to believe signing the contract was a good thing. Clay hadn’t expected there to be as many distractions as there were with round, warm eyes and fluffy brunette hair, but he would have to make due. Even if that meant ignoring George. But not for their lunch date. He already promised him. And not that it was a date either. Just as friends.

Clay had beat George to the diner, but it was also much busier than it had been last night. The booths lining the walls and the tables in the middle were all filled with people of different ages. Some obviously shared amongst family while others were shared amongst friends or even occupied by patrons who were alone, either scrolling on their phones or reading the newspaper with a cup of coffee. Clay spotted Tommy and a brunette around his age he didn’t know running between tables to take orders and to give or take plates of food. Wilbur was behind the counter, serving the guests on the barstools, and Clay quickly grabbed one and the one next to it. The only two seats next to each other in the whole restaurant. He took off his hoodie to drape it over the stool to show he was waiting for someone. 

“Hey, Clay. Good to see you again,” Wilbur welcomed, already pouring him a cup of coffee and setting creams and sugars in front of him. Clay put in his two sugar packets. 

“Hey, Wilbur. Business seems to be good today,” he commented, trying to create some small talk. Yesterday, he didn’t talk to Wilbur himself as much as he had planned, so he was trying to make up for it. 

“Yeah. Besides the weekends for breakfast, Tuesdays are always our busiest days around this time of year because the special is Q’s peppermint pancakes. Those are a hit, especially for the kids,” he explained. “Can I get you an order?” 

“No thanks. I’m waiting on George. We planned to meet here around this time,” Clay told him which made the Brit smile a knowing grin. He tried to grimace at his reaction and come up with a response that wouldn’t dig him into an even deeper hole, but he wasn’t confident in his ability to not splutter on his words. 

“So, you and George?” Clay couldn’t help but have his cheeks heat up a little at the accusation, and he found he couldn’t meet Wilbur’s suggestive eyes. He caught Clay off guard, though, when his tone turned more solemn. “Just be careful, okay? Don’t lead each other on if you’re just going to leave.”

He had a point, Clay couldn’t help but think. That meant Wilbur was reasonable and caring. He thinks of the future. 

Wilbur left him to tend to the other customers, and he was left to stir into his cup of coffee that he stirred aimlessly with a spoon. Not only did he wonder about Wilbur and what it would take for him to sign the contract, but his mind couldn’t help but also drift off to George as well. It was sad how much he let George wiggle his way into his mind after only having met him last night after years of being stoic to any romantics. Maybe it was the thought that he’ll only be here for less than a week that made him reckless or even the time of the season and gingerbread smell from the inn that always seemed to linger in his nose getting to him. He would need to work faster if he didn’t want any potential strings to this place to be formed before he had the chance to leave. 

Wilbur was starting a new pot of coffee when Clay called him over. “Hey, Wilbur. I was just wondering how long it’s been since you’ve opened the diner. I know you said Tuesday’s are an exception, but I'm really surprised at how busy it is. You must have worked really hard for this place to become so popular,” he complimented, making his voice practically drip in an interested curiosity and sincerity. 

“I moved to America 4 years ago and opened the diner not long after. And, yeah, business was a bit slow at first. Honestly, I think it was the pumpkin spice pancakes we serve in the fall that got people to notice us. If you ever find yourself back here in the fall, you’ll have to stop by and try them.” 

“Sounds good.” He paused, deciding his next question carefully. “When did Tommy and the other guys come along?” he asked, not having enough faith in himself to be able to identify the names of the other two workers. The only thing that came to mind was something having to do with a duck. 

“I hired them this year, in the summer. Tommy and Tubbo are taking a gap year to save up some money for school while Alex attends a university about 30 minutes from here. He usually just helps during the busy times of the year,” he explained. Clay knew there was more he wanted to say as he put a set of dirty dishes in a tub to be taken to the back and wiped down the area. “I’m not sure what I’m going to do when the two leave for college. They’ve had to take more break days lately to focus on college applications. Finding new help is going to be hard.” Bingo.

“Yeah, I totally understand,” he began, but he was cut off when he felt a hand on his shoulder. George gave him a soft smile before taking the seat next to him once Clay picked up his hoodie. “You’re wet,” Clay observed firstly, seeing his hair clinging to his forehead in wet strips. “You’ll get sick if you’re out in the cold while wet!”

“And why do you smell like wet dog?” Wilbur asked before George could respond to Clay’s chiding.

“I just finished giving Bruno a bath, and he’s a shaker. It’s not a problem is it?” he asked, suddenly anxious for their response. 

“No, no! Of course not,” Clay spoke up for the both of them, maybe a little too quickly. The smirk on Wilbur’s face didn’t escape the corner of his eye. George visibly relaxed at his affirmation, and the subtle smile returned to his face making Clay’s cheeks heat up slightly. 

“So what can I get you two?” Wilbur asked, going back into business mode, the knowing grin not leaving his face. 

“I’ll take the biscuits and gravy and a side of scrambled eggs,” Clay ordered.

“Just some coffee is good with me. I’m afraid I can’t stay long,” George said, directed to both him and Wilbur. Clay couldn’t help but think back to last night when George had just ordered a cup of tea. He couldn’t help but wonder and worry as to whether or not George was getting enough to eat or if he had even eaten that morning. It was obvious that the guy was busy, and Clay wasn’t a stranger to skipping a meal or two because he needed to work. Would it be crossing a line if he expressed his worry to George?

Wilbur also seemed to make the same or similar connection as he gave him a skeptical look, but he didn’t bring it up verbally. He just set a cup in front of him with a handful or creams which he put all of them in the cup. It was so white by the time he emptied the last creamer that it looked like he was drinking straight-up milk. “Got enough coffee with your cream there?” he teased which made George roll his eyes.

“Excuse me if I don’t like my drinks to be bitter.” 

Even though he knew he needed to talk to Wilbur more, he couldn’t do much with Wilbur needing to serve customers, so he settled with talking to George for the time being. Not that he minded. He didn’t mind one bit. Clay found conversing with George came easily. Like if it were their job, they’d be doing very well at it. It was enjoyable to learn more about him, like how he was colorblind and that he has loved and wanted to care for animals than before he could remember. In turn, Clay told him a little bit about himself like his family whom he didn’t see often. He also told him that his family always had a pet when he was younger, both cats and dogs, but he had an affinity for cats even though he didn’t have one at the moment. 

Their easy conversation was cut short by Wilbur setting two plates down in front of Clay, along with the saucer of gravy. “Take a biscuit,” Clay offered, sliding the plate with four on it towards him. George tried to bite his lip secretly, but Clay noticed easily, showing that he was thinking it over. 

“No. Thank you, but I actually should be getting back to the shelter. Our volunteers left after we gave the dogs their baths, and I still need to decorate for the fair tomorrow,” George explained quickly, winding a scarf around his neck. 

“Oh, I’m sure Clay can help you,” Wilbur spoke up to receive an indignant glare from him. He only smirked at him, punctuated by a suggestive wink. “He doesn’t have anything better to do. Isn’t that right Clay?” 

As much as he hated when people volunteered him for things he didn’t volunteer for himself, he really didn’t have anything else better to do. His morning was productive, and he finished all of his work for the office. The only thing he could think of doing was try to hang around the diner as inconspicuous as possible, but maybe it would be better to give Wilbur some space. If the owner had taken his earlier statement of empathy like he had wanted him to, then the seed had already been planted. It wasn’t like decorating a small space would take that long. 

“Yeah. I can help if you’d like me to,” he offered. George paused to think over the offer, taking a little longer than Clay would have thought, but he eventually agreed. Clay tried not to overthink why George took a long moment to answer. “If you’re going to wait for me, I insist you take a biscuit.” George sighed before grabbing a biscuit and pulling it into two pieces, taking a bite out of the bottom. 

“English biscuits are so much better,” he grimaced before breaking into a small smile. “Thanks.” 

Clay only returned the smile and went back to eating his lunch as quick as he could without being messy to keep George from having to wait for him. 

George led him on a short walk to the shelter. The barks could be heard practically three blocks away from the building which made Clay wonder what George fed them. From the outside, it looked quite tiny, but the inside was even tinier and quite sad looking. Even Clay could admit that the place could use some Christmas cheer, and he’d never said that about anything before. The lobby/welcoming area was tiny and looked like it could fit maybe 5 people comfortably, 7 to push it, with a counter desk to separate the worker and the waiting area. There was a bulletin on one wall showcasing the pets currently up for adoption as well as a spot to hang missing animal posters. Informational posters about how to maintain your pet’s health were also scattered throughout the bulletin board as well as an organizer on the far side of the counter with pamphlets detailing similar information. On the opposite facing wall, there was a large decal or paintings of a silhouette of a cat and dog playing with a ball in between them. A closed door that led to where the animals were was in the corner. 

The whole area itself seemed quite… sad. For a place where people were supposed to find their furry best friends, it was quite gloomy. “It- It’s not a lot,” George spoke up as if embarrassed. “But it gets the job done. As long as animals find loving homes.” He led Clay into the back room where the animals were. “These are the guys we’re currently sheltering, but shelters in the surrounding area are bringing some of their animals as well with the hope that we can get a lot of animals adopted,” he explained, leaving Clay with the animals to enter another door that looked to lead into a closet. 

The dogs all had their own little pens while most of the cats had their own cage, but there were two larger cages that held two cats. Clay counted four dogs and seven cats, all vying for his attention. His first stop was the animal he had been acquainted with. Bruno jumped up on the walls of his pen, panting and begging for pets from the human which Clay was happy to give. He also gave the other dogs some attention and filled one of the water bowls in the nearby sink that was beginning to run low. 

The cats were more subtle in their need for attention, watching Clay’s movements and sometimes rubbing against the cage. Two of the cats in one of the shared cages were obviously brothers as their markings on their fur were very similar as well as their eye color. They were the most eager as Clay made his way towards him as they were obviously still kittens. He smiled as the orange brother rubbed against his hand and licked his fingers through the bars. They were going to be adopted quickly tomorrow. 

George came back out of the closet when Clay was sparing his attention to a brown tabby with a lock of white on her chest that ran down to her belly. The clipboard attached to her cage read that her name was “Patches.” She was rubbing up against his fingers when she stopped to watch George who was carrying a large tote with what looked to be Christmas decorations in it. 

“Aww, she likes you,” George coed, having seen her affections for the dirty blonde. “Do you want to hold her? She’s a bit timid, but not aggressive.” Clay didn’t stop him as he put the clipboard on top of the cages and opened the door so he could get closer to her. 

The cat took a second, observing his outstretched fingers before feebly approaching. Her wet nose touched his fingertip as she sniffed him before she rubbed her head against his whole hand which made him break out into a grin. “She doesn’t usually warm up to people that quickly so she must really like you. It took her a week before I could even reach into her cage to change her water without her hissing at me,” George said as Clay rubbed her head which she just ate up. Her purrs filled the room. 

“Don’t be jealous, Gogy,” Clay teased, using the nickname Wilbur had used before. Hearing him said that made George flush, but Clay pretended not to notice for his sake. 

Patches used his torso to stretch, and her green eyes were level with his. He reached his arms up and she eagerly jumped into them, rubbing her head against his chest with content purrs. “Now that is love at first sight if I ever saw it,” the Brit chuckled as he grabbed the tote. Clay couldn’t help but think that that was the second time that had happened to him on this trip. “I’m going out to the front to start unloading these decorations. Just remember to lock the door to her cage when you’re done. Don’t worry about the clipboard.” Clay nodded in acknowledgment as he continued to pet the relaxed cat. 

And he realized, maybe being indifferent wasn’t all he wanted to do with his life.

It didn’t take long after Patches was settled in Clay’s arms for her to fall asleep, so he carefully laid her in her bed in the back of her cage without waking her. He locked the door of the cage and went out to the front to see George trying to untangle a string of lights. Clay watched fondly from the doorway as he struggled with a knot. After a little fit of frustration and getting the knot out, he continued to pull the string from the tote only to pull out a comically large and spherical mess of lights. George groaned, then he saw Clay watching him, trying to contain his own wheezing-like laughter.

Clay walked to where George was sitting to try and help begin untangling the lights when he noticed just how little there was in the tote. Yeah, the space they had to decorate was small, but a tangled string of colored lights, a string of grungy garland, and some ornaments with no actual tree insight wasn’t going to cut it. Not even for Clay. “Why do you have ornaments if you don’t have a tree?” Clay wondered, picking up an ornament to see it was obviously handmade by a child with colored popsicle sticks and paper with a stamp of a dog’s paw print and a black and white picture of a bulldog on the other side. He smiled and wondered if the dog now had an adoptive family to spend the holidays with. There were other similar ornaments with miscellaneous dogs and cats and even a fish with a kid’s interpretation of a fish fin in marker on the other side. Other more generic red and green ornaments also filled up the tub.

“That’s our tree right there,” George pointed out. Clay looked to where he was pointing and his heart literally broke. What George pointed to was not a Christmas tree. It was a hopeless excuse for a stick with some artificial sprigs coming from it on top of the counter. 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Clay said without thinking. “Even a Charlie Brown Christmas tree would put that thing to shame.” 

George didn’t take his comment well. The constant warmth left his face and his tone turned defensive as he told Clay, “well I’m sorry if we don’t have a lot of extra funds to spare for Christmas decorations. Most of our money is spent on food and other stuff so our animals don’t starve or have a miserable life while they’re here.” 

Clay blinked at George’s out of character outburst as it became obvious how stressed George was. His tense shoulders and tired eyes become painstakingly clear as if newly emphasized under a microscope. After a second, he slouched with a defeated sigh, dropping the lights that were in his hands. “I’m sorry I yelled. It’s just been a bit stressful lately with the adoption fair and lack of manpower. The shelter can’t afford to hire anyone else, and we’re worried that if we don’t get enough people to come… we’re not sure what’s going to happen.” Clay nodded, understanding what was left unsaid. “Actually, uh, the shelter used to always have a live tree that we would invite kids and their families to come and help decorate. That’s what those ornaments are from,” he paused, taking out one of the ornaments that Clay had held. “That was my first year in town. And then, there was an exodus or something. A bunch of families left town, and it became a lot harder for dogs and cats to be adopted. The only people that come through town are tourists, and God knows no tourist would adopt an animal. Extra money became more scarce, and we bought that little guy a few years ago,” he said, motioning to the stick with leaves on the counter with a breathy laugh. His tone was too hopeless and broken for Clay to see the laughing matter. “It’s just hard, especially for the shelter. For the other businesses, they can profit off of tourists, but it’s different when no families live here. If we don’t see an increase in business, I’m not sure what we’ll be able to do, and the animals won’t have anywhere to go. We’d have to move them to a pet store or another shelter, but it’d be so hard for them. Some of the older ones, we can’t take to other town’s adoption fairs because the ride would be too stressful for them.” 

It was a long and somber explanation, but Clay listened to every word. Suddenly the grey and dreary decorations fit the atmosphere, and Clay felt it was constricting. The cold air felt unnaturally biting. He couldn’t sit and do nothing.

“Do you know if there’s a tree farm nearby?” Clay ended up asking with a creeping smile.

George met his scheming eyes, and he couldn’t help the regret from becoming visible on his face. “No no no,” he refused adamantly. “I’m not letting you do something after that. That was just me being stressed. Oh God, I shouldn’t have said anything.” He tried to immerse himself back into the lights situation as if he hoped if he didn’t acknowledge him anymore, Clay would forget everything that had just transpired between them. But Clay pressed on. 

It took a bit of convincing as George insisted he didn’t want Clay’s charity because of his lamentation, but after he convinced him that he wanted to help the shelter genuinely, George eventually accepted. 

Then, he was informed that George couldn’t drive. “What?! You’ve been in America for over half a decade, and you never got your license?” Clay asked, shocked, which made George giggle softly. 

“No, you Americans drive weirdly. I know I’d have a heart attack trying to learn how to drive on the side of the road I’m not used to. Besides, I’ve never really had the need to get one because everything is within walking distance.” He had a point, Clay conceded. 

“Okay okay, fine. I mean, I can drive, but what are we going to do about a car? You don’t have one, and I definitely don’t have one here.” 

George’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, and he searched behind the counter to produce a set of keys. “Company car,” he explained, leaving out the door, expecting Clay to follow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the chapter :)   
> This next chapter will be the fluffiest chapter probably, and I'm so excited for you all to see it!!!   
> I'm sort of debating just throwing out the updating schedule and getting this all published before Christmas because it's basically finished and just sitting in the word doc and I just want to get it out because I just really love the story   
> Anyway, only 2 weeks until Christmas! And if anyone here celebrates Hanukkah I hope your holiday is special and you can spend time with loved ones safely if those are your plans :)
> 
> Happy Holidays ☃
> 
> \- Kashmere ♡


	3. 3 days until Christmas pt. 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The end of Clay's second day in town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the chapter: Christmas Tree Farm by Taylor Swift

It took a 20-minute drive to reach the small Christmas tree farm. Clay turned off the engine of the shelter’s car, and he looked over to see the look of absolute wonder and amazement and George’s eye, like a kid at Disneyland. 

When they had gotten out of the car, Clay could get a good view of the little plot of land, and he could see just how amazing it was. Even though it was quite small (only four rows of trees), it was decorated to fit the time of year well. There were a few trees decorated as display trees with lights, ornaments, and tinsel to look like a Christmas tree that would appear in a Christmas card. Both in the aisles in between the trees, as well as the big red barn that served as a backdrop, had lights strung up and about to give the place a cozier feeling. The sun was now above the horizon so the trees were beginning to set shadows on the walkways. “It’s beautiful,” George spoke aloud, as they walked up towards the entrance to the area. A man with pink dyed hair greeted them. 

“Hey. Welcome to the farm. My name’s Dave, so if you need anything just holler,” he told them with a subtle warmth. His voice was actually strangely monotone. They nodded in thanks and began their walk through the aisles. 

“So, you’re like an enforcer of the Christmas spirit,” George said with a playful smile. Clay couldn’t help but laugh a little at the sentiment and how ironic it was. Never before had he been so adamant about something so impractical as Christmas decorations. 

“There can never be enough Christmas cheer in one’s life, I guess,” he shrugged. It was ironic to him since he never cared about Christmas spirit or decoration before. He didn’t even have a Christmas tree in his apartment back home because he didn’t see the point of putting up something just to take it down a few weeks later. George made him see it differently, though. As they walked through the aisles, sharing stories and just talking, he realized that Christmas tree shopping wasn’t so bad with George with him. 

They had already agreed that they needed only a small tree so it wouldn’t take up too much space but still allowed plenty of branches for ornaments. The trees they were surrounded by were way too tall for what they needed, but they walked down the aisle nonetheless. Easily, some of them wouldn’t even fit in the space. They would have had to saw a hole a floor in the ceiling for it to stand up straight.

“I think it’s sweet. Sometimes I forget how special Christmas time can be. Thank you for reminding me of that.” 

Clay’s heart seized at his words. “George, you don’t have to thank me for a thing. You know that right?”

“Well, Christmas is also a time to be grateful and to show thanks to the people who have come into our lives.” 

As they progressed and wound through the farm, the trees got smaller and smaller until they reached Clay’s height and then George’s and so on. Eventually, they reached a small group of trees that reached George’s shoulders. “These look like a good height,” Clay proposed as they approached the grouping of four trees. George agreed, and they examined each one. 

It was easy for them to agree on the best tree of the bunch, and they pointed it out to Dave so he could net it. The two decided to hang around the farm for a little longer, with Dave’s permission. There was something about the place that put Clay’s mind at ease. He couldn’t explain it. And if he had to guess, from the natural color reappearing in George’s cheeks and the way his smile seemed more genuine than it ever had before, George felt the same way. “Thank you,” George said, speaking quietly as they walked aimlessly through the trees. “For everything.” 

“What do you mean?” Clay asked. The way he said it, so sincerely, it was like he was thanking Clay for saving his life. “All I did was buy a tree.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I know we’ve only known each other for less than 24 hours, but there’s something different about you. It’s like… I’m not afraid to be who I am around you. That you’ll understand my faults and maybe accept them?” he spoke as if unsure or apprehensive. Clay stopped their walk and turned so they were facing each other. 

That moment could only be described as magic. Even though they’d known each other for an extremely short amount of time, the secret force pulling them together was undeniable. Even if Clay wanted to try, he couldn’t manage to keep George from distracting him. He plagued his thoughts like a virus demanding all of his time and energy and focus. But it also made him feel warm inside. A constant chill that had surrounded his heart warmed whenever he thought of George and his shining eyes and dazzling smile. 

He looked up at Clay with so much passion and devotion behind his eyes that it was painful thinking about how long they’d actually known each other. Clay wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up within an hour to find out it was a dream. All a dream. 

And they leaned both leaned in. 

“Hey I- oh,” Dave interrupted them, realizing quickly what was about to happen. “Sorry about that, guys. Just wanted you to know your tree is ready at the front, but take all the time you need. Just, you know, pg…” he trailed off awkwardly, quickly getting out of their eyesight. 

The two were blushing madly with the mood having unfortunately been ruined. George cleared his throat and turned towards the exit. “I, uh, I guess we better get going.” Clay begrudgingly agreed. 

They were driving back in a comfortable silence besides the soft Christmas music that was playing from the radio station. The events from today played through his mind, and he couldn’t help but angst over how open and honest George is with him while George knows nothing about him. What would happen after he leaves? 

It was inevitable. He had worked too hard for his life in Boston to just give it up for what could only be a fling in a town in the middle of nowhere. Though it proved to be less boring than he had originally thought, he stood by the fact that small town life was still not for him. Even if George was worming his way into his heart and finding a spot of importance Clay never would have planned giving to him, he still had an obligation to what he had been working for his whole life. He still needed to get Wilbur to sign that contract. And that gave him an idea. 

“Hey, you were talking about how if more families were in the town, there would be more business at the shelter, right?” he recounted.

“Yeah, why?”

“I actually work at a business company in Boston,” he began. “We’re always looking for new opportunities in all new places. Specifically in the business of restaurants. I was talking to Wilbur earlier today, and he was talking about how unsure about the future of his business,” Clay explained carefully, leaving some truths out purposefully and emphasizing less than true points at other times. 

“I don’t understand,” George said with furrowed eyebrows. 

“I mean, I haven’t talked to Wilbur or anything, I just thought of it now. But maybe I can talk to my people If we can find a way to help Wilbur and strengthen and possibly advertise his diner outside of the immediate area, we could get more people coming to the town. If more people come to the town, families possibly, then they might have the right mind to move once they see how wonderful it is.” 

George processed and considered his words with a grain of salt. It was a fairly loopy train of thought, but Clay felt that it couldn’t be so direct where he would promise immediate results and George would see a lie. 

“I’m- is that possible?” 

“I don’t see why not? It would be slow going, and I’d have to talk to some people, but it’s not far fetched. Want to talk to Wilbur about it with me? I haven’t talked to him at all about it yet, and I think it’d be better if you were there.” If there was someone there Wilbur completely trusts, it would probably go better. Maybe it was a bit scummy to rope George to take on some of his dirty work without knowing, but it was too late now. 

It took him a moment to answer. When he looked at Clay, his expression was unreadable. Then he looked away, down at his lap, and said meekly, “I guess it’s worth a shot.” 

“We can bring it up to him over dinner? After we finish decorating?” George agreed, almost apprehensive. Clay bit his lip, wondering if maybe George sensed something was off. He was usually smooth and impenetrable when it came to two facing, but something in his gut twisted when he did it to George. He swallowed the feeling. 

It didn’t take them long to get the tree into the shelter and set up with water for it to soak in. George broke out the ornaments and began making sure they had hooks. Clay took the ornaments as George handed them to him, and he hung them on the tree. Unfortunately, the only decorations they had for the tree were the ornaments as the lights wouldn’t work if they were untangled, and the garland was to be saved for the walls. It didn’t even have a star. Clay couldn’t help but still think the tree looked unnaturally puny and unimpressive without colorful decorations to cheer it up some. 

“Do you mind if I take the company car for like an hour? There’s not a lot of decorations to put up, and I wanted to go to Walmart to get a heavier coat because the weather is going to be bad tomorrow,” Clay told him, once again with the two facing. But he had a better reason for this instance. 

“Yeah, no problem,” George shrugged, handing him the keys. 

Clay became giddy as he climbed into the car and started his gps for the nearest Walmart. Things were starting to look up for him. He could practically see the light at the end of the tunnel. 

The drive to Walmart was simple and uneventful, as drives to Walmart usually are. After he parked and got a cart because he planned on doing some shopping, he did get himself a heavier coat, a pair of jeans, and two t-shirts. Also a flannel because why the hell not, and they were on sale. His shoes weren’t that big of a problem. He'd rather deal with fancy shoes that sometimes made his toes hurt over buying a pair of Wal-mart sneakers just to throw them away when he got home. 

After that, he headed to the snack section and grabbed snacks with no inhibitions. By the time he headed to his next planned section, he had chips, cookies, and snacks galore in his cart. He wasn’t finished, though. 

George might kill him as he only agreed to Clay buying the tree and nothing else, but the lobby and the tree were still so bland that he made a trip to the Christmas decorations section. He grabbed both colored and white lights, tinsel, two bags of fake snow fluff, and a tree topper that hopefully George would like. There were other small things added to the cart on a whim that hopefully wouldn’t drive George over the edge. He tried to keep his shopping to a minimum so George wouldn’t become legitimately pissed at him. Before he left, he also grabbed two bags of dog food, cat food, and some toys for the animals to play with for good measure. 

Knowing that he was helping out not just George but a better cause for the animals made him feel a bit happier inside. Don’t get him wrong, he believed and participated actively in charity back home, but that was mostly donating money and forgetting about it. Thinking about Bruno or Patches playing with the toys he picked out that were in his shopping cart made him feel a sort of innocent pride. It was a good feeling, one he would have to remember for when he returned home. 

When he walked into the shelter with a sheepish smile, his arms filled with bags that had tinsel sticking out of some, George looked at him with a dropped jaw. “I- you- but- I- you-“ he stuttered as he rifled through the bags in Clay’s arms. He had left the bags of food and the bags with his clothes in them in the car. “Clay,” he said angrily like a mother would about to reprimand her child. Clay’s smile only grew as he gave his best puppy eyes and a shrug that said “what can I do?” 

“I can’t believe you!” George yelled exasperatedly. Clay set down the bags on the counter without acknowledging George’s emotional state that was a mixture of anger, gratefulness, resentment, and regret. “God why did I decide I wanted to keep you,” he muttered to himself, into his hands. Maybe he thought Clay couldn’t hear him, but he could. He was glad George couldn’t see the blood-red blush on his cheeks from behind his hands. 

“Well, come on! This room isn’t going to decorate itself,” Clay demanded with a playful lilt. He knew he was probably going to face George’s wrath eventually, but he was grateful that they could focus on working towards their common goal of getting the place decorated for now. 

George dug out an old radio from the back so they could listen to Christmas music while they worked. They added the old garland on the tree and the new tinsel to the walls and counter and situated the fake snow on the counter with some “icicles,” which were just sparkly strands of plastic, underneath. 

While they were hanging up the lights on the walls, a familiar tune came on the radio. Mariah Carey’s “All I Want for Christmas” filled the room. George immediately recognized the song by the opening notes, and he dropped what he was doing, insisting Clay did as well. Half of the lights were still on the floor, but George plugged them into the outlet in the corner anyway. 

The room that had only been lit by the natural light coming in through the front window was now cascaded in soft yellow light. George grabbed Clay’s hands and they danced in a haphazard way that would have been embarrassing if anyone else was watching him. But it was just him and George, and he felt like nothing could hold him back when he was with him. They began dancing without any rules or forethought.

All his life, Clay had identified his obstacles and worked to overcome them. That was his purpose. But, here with George, dancing under Christmas lights with the colors of the sunset coming in through the window, he felt like he could do anything. That feeling in his stomach continued to grow every moment he spent with him, and it was scary. But it was also invigorating and different and wonderful. 

They twirled and stepped and spun, letting the joy and the beat of the music guide them. Clay knew the song well, but he had never danced to it before. When George started singing along in a way that was furthest thing from Grammy worthy, Clay couldn’t contain his laughter any longer. Their laughter continued even after the song ended, wheezing and giggling long after the song stopped and their movements with it. 

George had to prop himself against the wall while clutching his stomach because he was laughing so hard and was probably dizzy from the last stage of their little dance. 

Once they regained their breaths and their footing, George turned off the radio that had gone into playing some modern version of “Sleigh Ride.” 

“I can finish the lights later. Why don’t we head on over to the diner?” George suggested, turning on the actual overhead lights and unplugging the fairy light for the time being. 

“If that’s what you want. You know I don’t mind helping you finish,” Clay told him. 

“Yeah, but there’s not much left to do, and you’ve already done so much. Dinner will be my treat.” 

Clay begrudgingly agreed, not wanting George to possibly think that he thought he was a charity case, so he accepted quitting for the night and his offer of dinner. Clay made them stop at the car before they left, and he grabbed his bags. Looking in them, he noticed something he had forgotten to give George, but he decided to wait and do it later because they both wanted to get to the diner.

When they got there, Clay set his bags at the bottom of his barstool, and they sat at the counter. There was a good amount of business as it was the beginning of dinner time. Not as much as there was that morning, but not near empty. “Hey, Wilbur! The lovebirds are back,” Tommy called out from where he was serving a table for the whole restaurant to hear. Immediately, everyone’s eyes were on George and Clay. George froze at the attention like a deer in the headlights while Clay’s cheeks darkened dramatically. 

“Ah, so you’re the Clay guy I’ve been hearing all about,” a younger guy wearing a dirty apron greeted, coming from the back. Clay didn’t recognize him, but it was easy to assume he was the cook. “Alex. But most people call me Quackity. Or Q for short. And if you feel so obliged, I will also answer to Big Q,” he introduced, grabbing Clay’s hand from his side and shaking it. 

George laughed from the sideline, observing their interaction. “Hey, Q,” George spoke up which made Quackity practically beam. 

“Gogy! Good to see you, dude!” He then proceeded to hug George in a bone crushing hug and ruffling up his hair some, much to George’s chargin. He promptly pushed the other away and did what he could to de-messify his hair. “I haven’t seen you since Thanksgiving. Where have you been?” 

“Yeah, I’ve been busy lately. Sorry I haven’t kept in contact. After this week, I should definitely be around more” he told him. 

“You better be,” Quackity warned before reaching to hug George again, but he was hastily stopped by George who kept an arm’s length between them. He pouted for a second but quickly turned to Clay. “So, Clay. Tell me a bit about yourself. Have any traumatic experiences at a Denny’s you’d like to share with the class?” 

Clay sat speechless, unsure of what to say nor what Quackity was trying to do. “Alex, your bacon is about to burn,” Wilbur told him, walking out into the dining area to save the day. Quackity gasped and excused himself before dashing into the kitchen with a squeal like scream. 

“I swear this town gets weirder and weirder,” Clay muttered to himself, but George next to him heard it and burst out into giggles. 

Wilbur took their orders, and they received their food without incident. As usual, Clay found himself lost in his conversation with George with the world surrounding them fading into the background. It had become a sort of routine interacting with George. 

Then George turned quiet. “Do you remember what you said in the car? When we were coming back from the tree farm?” The look in his eyes was unsettling and bizarre. “Something in me tells me that maybe we shouldn’t bring it up to Wilbur,” he said in a hushed voice. 

He thought of his next words carefully. “It doesn’t hurt to bring it up to him, right? Hopefully it’ll be a win win win for everyone.” He paused before saying, “trust me.” 

George looked at him with calculating eyes. “I do.” And Clay felt his breath catch in his throat, and he suddenly couldn’t meet George’s eyes. He wasn’t a stranger to business transactions like these. In the end, it would also be the corporations who came out in the end. These contracts weren’t made for the small businesses in mind. 

Clay watched in silence as he brought Wilbur over to them. As he worked his way up to explaining what they had talked about before. He weaved a compelling argument, listening to what Wilbur had to say and incorporating both his own points and what Clay could offer. He did Clay’s job better than he ever could. 

“So, what do you think?” Wilbur asked Clay who had stayed silent the whole time. “You know more about business more than we ever could. If you really think this is the right thing to do… what do we do next?” 

Clay hesitated, feeling the pressure of both sets of eyes on him. “Well,” he began, looking at the empty plate in front of him. “The next thing to do is to sign the papers.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you all have enjoyed the chapter and the story so far :)
> 
> Feedback and comments are always well appreciated! 
> 
> Happy Holidays ☃
> 
> \- Kashmere ♡


	4. 2 days until Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Christmas Eve Eve y'all (also the adoption fair and Mistletoe festival)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the chapter: Mistletoe by Justin Bieber 
> 
> You know this chapter is gonna be good if JB is the song

It was the next morning and Clay hadn’t slept well. The guilt had been getting to him, and it was only worse after he spent most of the night reading entirely through the contract after tossing and turning in his bed endlessly. Unless Wilbur had studied law, the contract would completely screw him over with Clay’s company taking control over most of the profits and rights to the place. L’Manberg wouldn’t belong to Wilbur after 5 years. 

The thought of Wilbur signing the contract without knowing made Clay sick to his stomach. He trusted him as did George when he didn’t deserve it. He felt like a horrible person, but he couldn’t deny what would happen if he went home with the contract successfully signed. Everything Clay had been working towards in his life would be one step closer. He couldn’t help the sense of self-pride in his stomach swell because of how far he had come. In reality, whatever life he fabricated in the past two days wasn’t plausible. He couldn’t live his days in a sleepy haze, going to the same motions every day until he died. That wasn’t what he wanted in life. Was it?

But he would allow himself today in this second life of his. It was the day of the adoption fair, which he had promised George that he would be there. Tonight was also the Mistletoe festival that everyone had insisted he stay for. Sometime in between the two, he would meet with Wilbur, drop off the contact, then he would leave in the morning. Only 24 hours more he had to stay. 

“Woah, you look like you got hit by a bus,” a new voice said as Clay stepped out of his room for the day. The dude was short with what Clay would describe as a friendly face. What stood out was the apron around his body with an embroidered smiley muffin that said, “stud muffin,” above it in a pink curly font. 

“Excuse me?” 

“Oh, sorry. I’m Darryl, the other owner of the inn. You’re Clay, right? Nick’s mentioned you before.”

“Yeah… you’re the dude with the muffins, right?” Obviously, Clay. Darryl beamed at the connection with an ear to ear smile.

“Yes! That is me!” he said excitedly. “Nick mentioned the thing you and George have going on, but he didn’t mention how much of a flatterer you are. Speaking of, I have his catering order ready to go if you’re heading over there. Nick is at the front desk and will show you where his order is, and he’ll get you some hair gel or something. Seriously, it looks like a tumbleweed on the top of your head.” 

Clay flushed at the man who walked away and down the hall without another word. He had been so stressed that he hadn’t even thought of checking his appearance. He had brushed his teeth, threw on some clothes, and left with the contract weighing him down in the briefcase he was carrying. It was a bit formal and attention-grabbing, but it was all Clay had. 

“Goodmorning,” Nick greeted casually. “What can I do for you?” 

“I’m going to take George his catering order for the adoption fair, and Darryl told me you could help me with that. Also, he suggested I use some hair gel,” he told him, trying to keep the resentment from showing in his voice near the end. 

Nick laughed as Clay tried to comb through his hair with his fingers, but he couldn’t do much without a mirror. “Is it really that bad?” he questioned. 

“Depends. Are you trying to impress someone?” he asked knowingly. Clay scowled with half the mind to hit Nick upside the head with his briefcase, but he didn’t feel like having to deal with an assault case this close to Christmas. 

“I just didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.”

“Ah, understandable,” Nick responded. “I can get you a cup of coffee for the road? It’s gingerbread, but it’ll give you the start you need. Complimentary.” Memories of the vile scent of gingerbread were barely beat out by Clay’s need for caffeine, so he accepted even though his nose wanted to protest. 

Nick led him to the kitchens where there was a large box with “George” written in big letters set near the doorway. “There’s the order for him. I’m going to go get your coffee, but first,” he disappeared down a hallway and came back with a little tub of hair gel in his hands to give to Clay. Conveniently, there was a mirror near the kitchens that he used to make his hair look less like a rat’s nest.

“Thank you,” Clay said, exchanging the hair gel for the coffee cup, setting it on the small table that was under the mirror. He situated the box under one arm with the briefcase on top, pinned between his arm and his side to prevent slipping, leaving his other hand to carry his coffee. Surprisingly, the coffee wasn’t bad. 

He made his way towards the town center with little complication. He was surprised to see the town center in the process of transformation with different people hanging up strings of lights from lamppost to lamppost and from the gazebo in the middle to the lampposts that surrounded it. There were garlands and bells and ornaments everywhere that reflected the sun overhead. Everyone seemed to enjoy their work with young children being lifted up by their parents into the trees to hang dangling ornaments and decorations as well as a group of elderly women gathered around a table who seemed to be making 3D stars that would be hanged somewhere at some point. Stands were being set up around the perimeter of the square with some people setting up what they would be selling while some vendor’s stalls still stood empty, waiting to be attended to. Clay wondered if L’Manberg or even the shelter would have a stall. 

He bypassed the center and walked the familiar route to the shelter which was also bustling with activity. There was a small green space across from the shelter that was now littered with large spacious pens. Some already had dogs in them, but most were still empty. A few people were playing with the dogs and puppies, but most people were still setting up the area and different tables. Clay didn’t see George in sight, so he made his way into the shelter to see its decorating had been finished. 

Completely enclosed cages filled with lobby and probably continued into the backroom, and Clay figured that the dogs would be kept outside while the cats would be kept inside. It was a bit cramped, but it was obvious that they had functionality in mind when deciding where the cages would go. Clay set the box on top of one of the empty cages right as George came out from the back. 

“Good morning,” Clay said first. “It, uh, looks like everyone is being really productive. I also brought your catering order from the inn so someone didn’t have to take the trip out there.” 

“Thank you. That helps us out a ton,” he said with a soft smile. Silence followed where the two ended up just staring at each other. There was something left unsaid between the two that made the silence uncomfortable, but Clay was too afraid to bring it up. Luckily, George spoke up first. “Um, what are we?” he asked, wringing his hands nervously with his shoulders hunched a little. “I mean, you’re not going to stay here forever, right? I need to know,” he paused, refusing to meet Clay’s eyes. “Is this what you want?” 

Clay took George’s hands, feeling that they were cold like they always seemed to be. When George looked up at him with those wonderful big brown eyes that made Clay’s heart skip a beat, it became clear to him that everything he could ever want in the world was right in front of him. But something kept him from taking what he wanted. The regret and guilt that had been building in his stomach since that morning was crescendoing as he thought of breaking George’s heart. 

“I want what you want,” he whispered softly, running his thumb along the side of his face just to feel. Even if they didn’t work out, he would have this moment and remember it forever. 

George’s eyes shined and sparkled with some cloud of emotions Clay couldn’t discern, but his hand was running through the hair at the bottom of his neck. He applied light pressure, bringing Clay’s face closer to his, and Clay’s thoughts churned. If they kissed now, it would be a point of no return. The thought of kissing George with such conflicting and unsure thoughts in his head only made it worse, but he didn’t stop the progression. 

“George, we’re- oh.” Clay’s head whipped to see a woman interrupting them giving him a sense of deja vu. He felt a pang of relief. Kissing him then would have felt too wrong.

George blushed madly, separating himself from Clay as if he burned him. “Puffy. What do you need?” he asked with a small cough to distract from what she had walked in to see.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” she said before a grin broke out on her face. “Northside Shelter is here with their dogs. I was wondering if there was a certain spot you wanted them in.”

“They have cats, right? They can have the cages that are in that corner. Outside they can have the pens that are closest to the lamppost,” he told her, and with a nod, she left. “Sorry about that,” he said to Clay with a puff of a laugh. “Kind of ruined the mood, I guess.”

Clay only smiled and took his hand to squeeze it once in reassurance, but he decided not to initiate another kiss. He still couldn’t get past the idea of somehow betraying George just yet. “What can I do to help?” 

George sighed, turning to him. “Please don’t feel obligated to help out. I’m so thankful for everything you’ve done already, and I want you to enjoy your holiday.” 

“Hey,” Clay said with a finger under George’s chin so he could look into his eyes and see how sincere he was when he said, “I want to help.” 

His cheeks turned red and he tore his eyes away from Clay quickly which made the taller laugh. “Well, we also have a catering order from the diner if you want to get it. And you probably haven’t eaten breakfast yet. A lot of the work won’t start until everyone gets here.” 

“Have you eaten breakfast?” Clay asked, already knowing the answer from the way George’s eyes would land anywhere except on him. “I’ll bring you back a sandwich.” 

“I swear, Clay Williams. You are an angel sent from the heavens.” 

“I highly doubt that,” he couldn’t help but say. Clay pulled George into a warm hug quickly before he could talk himself out of it and left the shelter, grabbing his briefcase as well. 

The diner was fairly busy when Clay arrived meaning Wilbur really hadn’t been joking about the peppermint pancakes the morning before. He snagged a barstool, setting the briefcase on top where it wouldn’t impose on anyone’s space who would sit next to him. It didn’t take long for Tommy to notice him and begin to serve him. “Hey, Clay. Coffee?” Clay turned it down and instead ordered water. “Hmm, I take that as rare for you,” he commented but gave him a glass and filled it. “Where’s Gogy? I assume you know.” 

Clay couldn’t keep his face alighting which made Tommy laugh triumphantly. “You’ve been here for two days, and I can read you like the back of my hand. Oh God I’m good!” Clay wanted to smack the smirk off of his face, but a fond feeling also blossomed in him at the same time. “I think Wilbur wanted to talk to you? Told me you two had something to talk about.” 

His eyes glanced at the briefcase, and he took a deep breath to try and calm himself. “Yeah, I know what it’s about,” he said, unable to keep the shakiness from his voice. Wilbur just needed to sign the contract before Clay convinced himself not to let him. 

Tommy gave him a skeptical look sensing that something was off, but he excused himself to go get Wilbur. When he came out, he had an excited grin on his face that only grew when he saw Clay sitting at the counter. “Hey man! How have you been?” he asked as if he hadn’t just seen him last night.

“Good,” Clay indulged in the distraction. “After this, I’m going to help George with the adoption fair. I mostly came by to get the catering order.” 

“Seems like something you’d do. Helping out in whatever ways you can.” Oh, that one stung. Wilbur’s eyes flickered hopefully at the sight of the briefcase. “So, uh, did you get in contact with your company?” 

With a detached state of mind, Clay opened the briefcase and pulled out the stack of papers and a pen. “Woah, this is a lot more paperwork than I had imagined,” Wilbur couldn’t help but laugh, running his finger along the edge. “This feels like my first official business deal. I guess it sort of is,” he said. Clay tried to detect an edge of uncertainty, but Wilbur seemed dedicated or he was a good actor. 

“Yeah,” he said dismissively.

“Have you, uh, have you read it? You said that your company will help me advertise for a small fee.”

“Well, think of it as an investment. A… portion of your business will belong to the company that will allow them to franchise and advertise,” he explained carefully. Wilbur considered his words, and his eyes scanned through some of the pages but the words didn’t stick. It seemed like a deal too good to pass up to anyone who didn’t know the actual contents of the contract. In reality, it was a snake pit. 

“That’s not too different from what I thought,” he said with that slight sense of uncertainty. Clay needed to snuff it off. “If you still think it’s a good idea. I trust you.” He grabbed the pen Clay had set on the counter. 

Clay could feel his conscious blaring sirens, but he ignored the rising sense of danger pooling in his stomach. “All you need to do is initial here and sign.” He felt sick to his stomach.

-

It turned out that playing with cats proved to be a good distractor when you felt the guilt of possibly ruining a man’s livelihood in the forefront of your mind. Patches was walking around in the back of the shelter, chasing the feather toy that Clay had bought last night for the shelter. Her playfulness served as a good distraction for the distress that had apparently been easily read by George from when he walked into the shelter for the second time that day. 

“What happened?” George immediately asked, when Clay had walked into the shelter, setting down everything that had been in his hands before. His hands cupped Clay’s face with such comfort and care and his eyes were wide with worry. 

“Nothing,” he began, trying to look away, but George kept his eyes trained on him. It was easy to know he was lying. “I just need a distraction is all,” he said without giving too much away. Luckily, George would be too busy today to ask Wilbur what had happened in the diner. Even though his briefcase still held the same contents it did when Clay had left his room, it felt much heavier with the ink signature on it. Clay still had to email a copy to Wilbur like he promised which made his stomach feel like lead. He hoped he could leave town before Wilbur read it.

George just looked at him and ran his thumb over his cheekbone. “I know what will cheer you up,” he had told him before he got Patches out of her cage and handed Clay the toy. That was fifteen minutes ago, and Clay didn’t feel any better. Both the lack of sleep the night before and now the feeling of dread were catching up to him. 

“I brought you some hot chocolate. We don’t have coffee, or I would have brought you that,” George said, handing him the cup. 

“Thanks,” he said flatly, looking into the deep brown liquid. He wasn’t one for such a sweet drink, but he downed the whole thing as it scalded his tongue. Still, the hot drink settled him and the burn provided a bit of distraction. George just sighed and picked up Patches who had become disinterested with the toy to put her back in her cage. He then took a seat next to him on the floor.

“Did I ever tell you about the time Tommy licked a street lamp and got his tongue stuck to it?” George asked suddenly. Clay couldn’t help but snort at the suddenness and absurdity of it making a smile erupt on George’s face. “Yeah. Quackity was laughing so hard on the sidewalk he slipped on the ice on the sidewalk. It took Wilbur’s hairdryer to unstick him, and Tommy brushed his tongue for like 10 minutes.” He explained the rest of the story while both of them were laughing like hyenas.

It took them a second to settle down a moment of silence before George cut to the chase. “You can talk to me, Clay,” he said with a hand over his to reassure him. Even though he wasn’t looking at him, he could imagine the wide innocent face George was pulling vividly. If he looked, he knew he would break. 

“I’m not who you think I am,” he admitted solemnly. “I’m not generous or kind. I’m selfish and I hurt people.” 

When he found the courage to look at George, he seemed to be deep in thought. Clay could see the cogs working in his brain. “You know what I think?” he asked, taking a hold of his hand. “I think that you give yourself too much credit. You aren’t a bad person, Clay,” he told him definitively. “I mean, Patches loves you, and she’s a great judge of character,” he said lightly with that smile Clay couldn’t resist. “And I refuse to believe all those things about you. So why do you say them?”

“Because I don’t want to hurt you.” George didn’t respond, but he raised Clay’s hand to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. That giddy feeling rose in his chest. 

“Here’s my promise to you,” he said, resting his head on his shoulder as they sat with their back against the wall. “I will never let that happen.” 

-

Clay helped out the best he could during the adoption fair. He sort of was a floater, making sure the different animal shelter workers had what they needed, the volunteers knew what they needed to do, and the participants were happy. George was stuck inside making sure the people who were adopting filled out all of the correct paperwork and had everything they needed, so they didn’t actually see much of each other. It would’ve made Clay sad, but he was surrounded by too many dogs to be anything other than happy. 

His moment with George had calmed his nerves quite a bit. He had emailed Wilbur the copy of the contract earlier, and the world hadn’t blown up, so he took that as a good sign. It was easier to force himself to believe everything would be okay when George thought so. 

The adoption fair ran smoothly. Clay saw many happy people adopt even happier pets (even Bruno which he couldn’t help but shed a tear at), and many people complimented Clay on the work he had done, saying it was one of their best events in a while. He was quick to explain that all of the credit should go to George. 

Even Quackity, Tommy, and Tubbo stopped by and played with some of the puppies. “I heard the story about you getting your tongue stuck to the lamp post,” Clay told Tommy with a snicker when he first saw them approaching. Quackity burst into a fit of laughter while Tommy was sent spluttering. 

“Well, that just isn’t fair! I haven’t known you long enough to make fun of you for anything,” he huffed which made Quackity laugh even harder and even Tubbo chuckled. 

They stayed for a while before they claimed that they should go back because Wilbur was manning the restaurant by himself and left. The fair was on the decline by then with most of the animals having been adopted and some of the other shelters had begun to pack up. He figured that everyone left knew what they needed to do by then, so he took it as an opportunity to check up on George who he hadn’t seen at all for the duration of the fair. 

When he walked in, George was helping a family who looked to have just adopted a cat. “He’s a real sweetie. I’m sure your family will love him,” he said, handing the carrier to the little girl who was giggling with glee and the papers and a small bag of cat food to the parents. Clay overhead them thank him and compliment the fair before leaving. 

“It seems like the adoption fair was a huge success,” Clay said, looking at all of the empty cages in the room. “Most everyone is packing up now.”

“Yep. We’ve adopted more pets this year than we had in the last two years combined.” He walked over to one cage in the corner to open it and pick up Patches. “We got everyone out of our shelter adopted except for this girl,” he said sadly while stroking her neck. “It was weird. She was more aggressive and hissing at any who approached than she usually does. She’s never been like that before. Shy maybe, but never unapproachable.” 

Clay noticed that she was tense in George’s arms. Not relaxed, but not aggressive. Clay reached out to hold her, and George handed her over to which she immediately cuddled up to Clay once in his arms. “Holy crap she has really taken a liking to you,” George commented with a smile, scratching her head which made her purr louder.

“Yeah,” Clay said, thinking. “You know, I haven’t had a cat in a while. Maybe it’s time for a change.” 

George gasped before his grin took up his whole face. “You want to adopt her?”

“I do.” Clay leaned down to kiss her head and she rubbed against his neck, content as ever. “Do you mind if I keep her here until I leave? The ride is a little more than an hour. She should be okay, right?” 

“She’ll probably sleep for most of it so she’ll be okay. And of course she can stay here for a little while longer. We can go ahead and fill out the paperwork, and you can come by anytime. Just give me a call.” 

“But, I don’t have your number.” 

“Oh,” George flushed, “well that’s a problem, isn’t it?” He got out his own phone and handed it to Clay with a new contact open after he put the cat back in her cage. He smiled like a schoolgirl as he put in his information. “Dream?” he wondered, seeing that the contact name was put in as “Dream :D”.

“Do you know how much we’d be the gossip of the town if anyone found us texting each other?” he said which made George giggle. “And it was an old screen name when I was younger.” 

George was typing on his phone before Clay heard a ding from the phone in his pocket. It was from an unknown number with the text, “hi Dream :)”. “So, when are you planning on going back home?” he asked while also grabbing another packet of papers with the adoption forms. Clay began looking them over. 

“Tomorrow, actually.” 

“Oh.” he said with a twinge of sadness. Clay chose to not acknowledge it, afraid of what might slip out. He slipped back into the topic at hand. “So, um, after the fee, you just need to sign here, and she’ll be ready to go home when you do. Just let me know when you plan on leaving tomorrow.” 

Clay did so, paying the fee and signing, and he sighed happily. For the first time on this trip, he felt like he did something right. Not generous or for any sort of gain. Just… right. If things turned south, at least he would have a long-lasting friend come out of it. 

He and George played with Patches again, and by then, the sun was beginning to set. They were in a similar position as they had been earlier, shoulder to shoulder sitting on the floor with their backs to the wall. “The Mistletoe Festival starts at 7. Can I meet you there?” George asked after they put Patches up who had fallen asleep.

Already, Clay knew his answer, but he was also curious. “What is the Mistletoe festival, anyway? I thought I saw some people decorating the town square. I mean, mistletoe is supposed to be romantic, right?” 

George hesitated, that rosy blush vivid on his cheeks, before saying, “Yes, but not everyone who goes is involved romantically… but also no one would be like offended if you go with a… date.” 

He laughed at George’s ramble-like explanation which made the other’s blush more prominent. “Are you asking me out on a date?” 

George gaped for a moment before stumbling out, “o-okay now that’s just putting words into my mouth.” Then, he took Clay’s hand in his, his eyes focused on the details they created. The delicate freckles splayed across Clay's skin and the shadows that were created in the negative space between them. “But, I wouldn't be opposed,” he spoke softly. 

Clay buried his nose in George’s hair, unable to stop smiling like a madman. There was something soothing, he found, as he took in the scent of George’s shampoo that smelt a bit like the sea. He kissed the top of his head, whispering back, “I wouldn’t mind either.” 

After they set a time to meet outside of the diner, Clay left the diner to go back to the inn to take a well-deserved nap. The day had already been long, and it was only going to get longer with the festival. Not that Clay minded. At all. 

Sleep came to him rather easily and he was able to sleep until his alarm an hour and a half later. Waking up in the dark and disoriented made him think back to his first night in town when he had met Tommy, Wilbur, and George. It felt like a lifetime with how much had happened since then. He had to lay on his back, looking up into the pitch-black dark for a moment to let himself process it. Being there, in that town with people who got along so well and accepted him readily gave him friends that he hadn’t probably had since college. And how sad of a thought was that?

He got up and made sure he looked like he hadn’t just woken up in his bathroom mirror. All of the lights were once again off with the candles serving as the only source of light in the lobby. “Are you going to the festival?” Nick asked, catching Clay before he left. 

“Yeah. I’m meeting up with George, actually.”

Nick awed in understanding, raising his eyebrows up and down suggestively which made Clay roll his eyes. He shoved Nick’s shoulder making the brunette laugh. “You’ll see Darryl there, probably. He has a stall for his muffins. George’s favorite is the cranberry orange,” he said with a wink. Clay huffed, but he filed the information away for later. “I won’t keep you. Have a good night.” 

“You too,” 

Even though their interactions had been pretty limited, Nick was a cool guy. 

By the time he got to the diner, Clay was early for the time they had planned to meet so he visited Darryl whose stall was on the corner and easy to get to. “Why hello there,” he greeted when he saw Clay. The festival had only just started so he still had a lot of muffins laid out and smelling wonderful. In front of his stall on a chalkboard were his prices and flavors. “Are you here with a certain someone?” he asked in that suggestive tone Clay had been hearing quite often. It was annoying, but he knew no one meant any harm. At least he knew George was going through the same thing. 

“Yeah. We’re meeting up soon. Thought I might get us something since the diner is closed,” he told him. It was strange with everything in town closed as it was apparently tradition on the night of the festival and most businesses had a stall anyway. 

“Good for you. You know, George’s favorite is the cranberry orange.” 

“So I’ve heard. I’ll take one of those and a blueberry. Also, save one of Nick’s favorites, and I’ll take it back to him when I go back to the inn,” he said, handing Darryl the money for three muffins. As he was about to turn around to make his way back to the front of the diner, two arms snaked around his waist and a body snuggled up to his side. 

“George! I could’ve dropped my muffins!” he complained before a smile broke out on his face. Darryl giggled at the sight of the two. 

“I’m sorry but it’s cold,” he pouted, not breaking his grip. Until he saw the muffin in his hand. “Ooo is that cranberry and orange?” He grabbed the muffin from his hand and pinched a piece off of the top. 

“I got it for you. In case you were wondering,” Clay laughed as George continued to pick at it. 

“Okay okay. You two need to get going. People are starting to arrive, and I don’t want you two muffin heads crowding my stall,” he shooed them away. “Have a great time you two!” 

After leaving Darryl behind, George broke out into full-blown tour guide mode, raving about the highlights of the small festival and the different traditions surrounding it. It really was a beautiful scene with blinking Christmas lights hanging and wrapping around the lamp posts around the perimeter of the square. There were bows, garland, wreaths, and every other Christmas decoration in sight that livened up the plaza in a way that wasn’t gaudy or overdone. Clay really felt like there was really something special here. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” George said with a grin after an especially long pause of Clay’s as he admired the decorations. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity to look at George to see the lights reflect in his eyes like candlelight and say,

“Yeah, yeah it is.” 

They went around to the different stalls to check out what the different vendors had to offer. Most of them were vendors selling different items like charms or knick-knacks, but there were also a lot that sold food since anyone in town was welcome to rent a stall. One-stop they made was Quackity who sold bowls of his chili which he claimed was “world-famous.” Really, it meant that his friends in Mexico had liked it when he fixed it for them. They also bought some hot chocolate from a vendor, and Clay bought a keychain with the town’s name on it as a souvenir for himself.

“Hey look at this stall,” Clay said as they approached one that was being run by some teenage girls who were obviously students at the high school. Their sign that hung above their heads was handmade with what they were selling, how much, and what the money was going towards. “Friendship bracelets for $3. Proceeds go towards New Hampshire’s Humane Society.” 

George followed his lead, and they approached the stall. When the girls saw George, they immediately blushed with a, “Hi Mr. Davidson,” and were sent into a giggling fit, turning away to hide their red cheeks. George seemed not to notice or not seemed fazed by it, but Clay couldn’t help but snicker. George was focused, too distracted to notice their innocent crushes, sifting through their small mound of handmade woven bracelets, and he grabbed a green and white one that was diagonally striped like a candy cane. He dug into his wallet and pulled out three bills and handed it to them which sent them into another storm of blushing giggles when their hands brushed. Clay did the same, picking out a red and blue one that made a sort of chevron pattern that also had a stripe of white. “Thank you,” the girls said in unison in a sort of sing-songy tone that made Clay want to join in on their giggle fest. 

They were far away from the stall when Clay asked, “do you know them?” 

“Yeah, they’re with the animal rights club at the high school. Sometimes they do volunteer work at the shelter. Why?” he responded, completely clueless. Clay couldn’t help but grin and laugh at the realization which made George even more confused.

“Seems like I have competition, then,” he joked. It took George a moment before his cheeks were blazing, and he didn’t look at the stall for the rest of the night. 

“Well, too bad for them. I have my eyes for someone else,” he said, toying with the end of his newly bought friendship bracelet. They stopped their slow stroll and faced each other. “Here,” he said with the bracelet on his outstretched palm. Clay smiled and reached out his own hand for George to tie the bracelet around his wrist. He couldn’t help but think the way George tied the knot with such concentration with his tongue barely sticking out of the corner of his was cute. 

“Funny, I got you one too,” he told him, showing him the bracelet he had bought. After tying the bracelet around George’s wrist, they were a little lost as to what to do. It seemed to happen a lot to them. Not that either minded. For Clay, it mostly ended up with him getting lost in George’s chocolate eyes. 

Before they could think of anything else to do with their night, cold snowflakes began coming from the sky. George gasped, looking up to see the clear night sky. As to how it was snowing was a mystery. Clay giggled, feeling the fat snowflakes kiss his cheeks before melting away on his skin. Before he could appreciate it any longer, George was holding his hand and dragging him towards the gazebo that was in the center of the plaza to shelter them from the snowfall. Both of them were giggling and now had a good dusting of snowflakes covering them. George looked good with a crown of snowflakes mixed in his hair. His smile was etheral.

“Something has changed since you’ve arrived. It's like there’s something in the air that I can’t describe. Like magic,” he told him out the blue. It occurred to Clay that they hadn’t let go of the other’s hand yet. They were still entwined between them.

Clay hesitated, trying to become accustomed to the churning feeling in his stomach that he couldn’t tell if it was good or bad. “And is that a good thing?”

“It’s the best feeling I’ve felt for a long time.” Clay couldn’t keep the grin off of his face after that and neither could George. 

“Hey look,” George noticed, somewhat bashfully. Clay’s eyes followed his eyes to see he was pointing to the little sprig of green hanging from the top of the gazebo. “Legend has it, lovers who kiss under the mistletoe are destined to be with each other. They’ll be touched by Christmas magic and be together as long as they believe in it.”

Clay looked at George and his red cheeks, whether it was from the cold air or from the swirl of uneasiness behind his eyes, he didn’t know. “And what if I told you that I didn’t believe the story you just made up?”

George soured at Clay’s accusation in a way that told him that he was right inexplicitly. He smiled and took George’s other gloved hand in his to ease his nerves. George looked up at him with those innocent and wide eyes, and it was like the final layer of ice that had made Clay’s heart cold had melted away. He felt George’s other hand grip his shoulder like it was a lifeline, and he reached his hand up to hold George’s face. He could feel his hot skin even through his glove as it melted the snow that had stayed on it.

Something pulled him forward. Maybe the wind, or maybe his intuition. But he had never wanted anything more than this. As they got closer, Clay’s lips upturned into a smile, smelling the hot chocolate and peppermint on George, and he took a deep breath about to jump off the deep end.

If someone told him it was destiny… Clay probably would have punched them. Before their lips could touch, a loud yell broke through any of the white noise that surrounded them. Everyone still and quieted as Clay’s name was repeated, louder and angrier. He had no clue who was calling out to him until the blonde teenager broke through the ground, looking up at the couple still in the gazebo with so much hatred and disdain in his eyes. In any other circumstance, Clay might have commented on how it was unhealthy for that much rage to be pent up in someone as young as Tommy. 

“You’re a fucking prick!” he screamed, reaching Clay and pushing him back. One more push from Tommy (who seemed well intent on doing so) and Clay would’ve been sent down the stairs, but Tommy was stopped by Tubbo. The brunette teen stood between the two blondes, keeping Tommy from advancing. Everyone’s eyes were on the gazebo. “You know that?” Tommy shouted again from behind Tubbo who was trying to tell him to keep it down. “A fucking prick!” 

Clay’s stomach sunk like the Titanic seeing Tommy’s enraged glare, Tubbo’s stony eyes, and George’s confused glance. The oldest was looking between everyone, trying to figure out what was going on for himself, but he had no clue. “Tommy? What are you going on about?” he asked, trying to keep his tone unbiased even though he wanted to believe that it was just Tommy being dramatic rather than anything serious. Boy was he wrong. 

“He’s a dirty fucking rat! I never trusted him, and now he’s fucked over Wilbur,” Tommy cursed, fighting against Tubbo who still kept them separated. Clay noticed Quackity and Darryl coming over which made him more nervous and feel like a caged animal. 

“Clay? What is he talking about?” George asked. Clay just gaped, unsure of what to say or how to say it. He was still trying to process what was going on. 

It wasn’t him who told George and everyone else what was going on. Wilbur approached them looking terrible. He looked like he had just finished crying with red-rimmed eyes and shaky hands. “He betrayed us,” Wilbur said, explaining what he understood of the contract, and he wasn’t far off. It was as bad as it sounded. “You knew what was in that contract, yet you let me sign it. For what?” his voice escalated from a low whisper until he was close to screaming. “I can’t believe I trusted you!” 

Everyone began speaking over one another with Quackity and Darryl trying to understand what was going on, Tubbo trying to calmly explain, Wilbur switching in between yelling and saying what happened, and Tommy just full on screaming. Clay tried to apologize and explain his side of what happened, but he wasn’t being heard. Everyone was too caught in talking to each other, trying to explain or learn information that they didn’t care for what Clay wanted to explain. Not that he had much to defend himself with.

He tried to look for George in the mess to explain it all to him first, but he wasn’t in the gazebo anymore. Clay saw him walking away with his arms drawn tightly around him, and he chased after him. As he tried to run towards him, it became clear George was trying to avoid him, but Clay was quick and put a hand on his shoulder to turn him around. Turned out, maybe he didn’t want to face George as much as he wanted to. The brunette was upset with tears in his eyes and already a red nose either because he was sniffing so much or because he was cold. The snow around them continued falling down mercilessly, making the air freezing. 

Any thought of what to say left him when he saw George who seemed to become increasingly angry. “George I-“ he began, trying to salvage what he could on the fly, but he was quickly stopped.

“God dammit Clay,” George stammered. “Tell me what they said wasn’t true. Don’t lie to me.” His voice was shivering like his body as tears rose in his eyes. Clay was left speechless, knowing he couldn’t lie to George. Not while seeing him so close to breaking in front of him. Maybe not ever. His gaze turned venomous at Clay’s silence that was answer enough. “Fuck you.” 

He turned and walked away again, but Clay stopped him by grabbing his shoulders. He fought, trying to shove the taller away, but Clay was in front of him and wouldn’t let George go around him. “George, please, I’m sorry I never meant-“ 

“What?!” he cut off harshly. “Let Wilbur sign that contract? Ruin everything he’s worked so hard for? Manipulate me into helping you to get him to sign it? God, was that all I was to you Clay?” he asked, his voice growing quieter with an icy pained tone. “A means to an end?” 

Fresh tears appeared in both of their eyes as Clay tried again, pushing down the inevitable feeling of failure that was rising in his stomach. “No!- I mean yes- I mean I’m sorry for all of it, but I never had to pretend anything with you. I swear that I never saw you as less than you are.” 

George paused, looking up at Clay. “And now I know that I only saw you for more than what you are.” The words seemed to hurt them both as tears trailed down George’s face when he shut his eyes. 

“George please-“ he began again, but George wouldn’t let him. 

“I never want to see you again,” he said through gritted teeth and no regret. When he walked away, Clay couldn’t do anything but let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've reached the end of the chapter :)  
> and to think I was gonna make y'all wait 5 days originally for the next chapter but now you just have to wait until Sunday  
> I'm not going to spoil anything about next chapter but Wilbur and Nick are the best people in this story (and another character actually but they haven't been formally introduced yet)
> 
> Also quick warning I guess for next chapter but there will be some POV changes. I hate to do that and be inconsistent with the last chapter but I felt it worked the best for the storytelling
> 
> Comments and feedback are always appreciated <3
> 
> Happy Holidays ☃
> 
> \- Kashmere ♡


	5. Christmas Eve and Christmas Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a choppy ride to end the story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song of the chapter: Wrapped in Red by Kelly Clarkson

Clay had the sense that he wouldn’t be welcomed in town, so he found himself sitting on the dock on the pond behind the inn to pass the time between when Christopher was supposed to pick him up in the afternoon. It was cold, but his suit jacket kept him fairly warm. His actual winter coat that he had gotten from Walmart what seemed like years ago was back in his room, hanging over the back of the desk chair. He didn’t see a point in dressing in the casual clothes he had bought anymore. After his departure, he would be back in his life of ties, briefcases, and business. 

“Hey,” a voice behind him said softly. He stupidly realized that he hadn’t even heard the footsteps approaching him. Nick sat beside him on the edge of the dock so his feet hung over the edge. “So, you’re leaving today?” 

“Yeah,” Clay responded, hearing the regret in his own voice. “But don’t worry, you’ll get paid for the whole week,” he responded with a playful smile that made Nick giggle a little. Silence transpired between them, but Clay didn’t mind. Though he hadn’t gotten to know Nick well during his trip, his presence was comforting. He had been ready, even accepted, that he would be leaving with virtually everyone in town hating his guts, but Nick approached him peacefully and was staying. 

“I heard what happened. With George and Wilbur.”

“Not surprising,” Clay huffed hoping that he didn’t take it the wrong way. He wasn’t angry at either of the other two. He was angry with himself. “Word seems to travel fast in this town.”

“And what about you?” Clay just looked at him, not understanding what he was getting at. Obviously, he knew what Clay had done. Why did he need to hear it from him again? “What are your thoughts about what happened?”

He paused, realizing that he really hadn’t processed what he thought about what happened. Yeah, he regretted two facing Wilbur and deceiving George, but there was still that churning somewhere deep in his stomach that happened during the events of last night that he hadn’t acknowledged. 

“I regret it, more than they will ever know,” he began, keeping his eyes on the forest that was across the lake. “All my life, I’ve been driven by personal success. I’ve never been one to have friends before because I was always working or didn’t see the point. But when I came here… everything changed. I knew it was the wrong thing to do before I did it, but I never realized how it would hurt knowing that I hurt them.” 

Nick didn’t respond immediately, but he let the silence simmer. There was much more going on Clay’s head, but it didn’t feel right articulating them. They were just things that were better left unsaid and things Clay wanted to keep close to his heart. It was when Clay drew his knees close to his chest as a cold air blew through that Nick responded. “If I know anything it’s that those bastards don’t hold grudges. Except Tommy maybe,” he said to make Clay feel better. Deep down Clay knew he’d never want to return after he leaves and have to face them again. Whether they were mad at him still or not. He seemed to sense that Clay was going deeper into his mental spiral and changed tactics. “My mom would always tell me that it was never too late to fix something you’ve broken. I think she was talking about a vase I broke when playing football in the house, but I would say it can apply now as well.” Clay looked at him with glassy eyes, and Nick smiled at him. It reassured him. “You haven’t left yet, Clay.” 

He sighed a deep yet shallow breath that seemed to come from every part of his body. Christopher wasn’t going to pick him up until later. He had time and someone on his side. 

His first stop was the diner. Walking up to the building made his stomach twist and turn which made him feel a little queasy. The only thing he had eaten was one of Darryl’s muffins, and it would not be good if that ended up on the sidewalk so he took deep and steadying breaths to keep up his nerve. 

The moment he entered, it felt like the world stopped at the ring of the bell. Tommy looked up and saw him, glaring with a look that was poisonous. “Didn’t you know? We don’t serve shitheads,” he said loudly that caught the attention of the entire diner. Everything went silent. Some of the parents with little kids glared at Tommy while most people just stared at Clay who was frozen still in the doorway. 

Wilbur was the person to move and break the heavy tension, but he didn’t approach Clay. The way he couldn’t even meet his eyes made the blonde’s heart twist. He just grabbed Tommy’s arm and hauled him into the back. That left only Tubbo. 

As everyone resumed their chatter and eating, Tubbo approached him with a neutral peace. He knew that the other waiter knew, and he had every right to hate him just like Tommy and Wilbur, but Clay also appreciated him remaining diplomatic and at least appearing to be unbiased. It was only going to get harder from here so the feigned kindness was greatly appreciated. “I don’t think it’d be best if you stayed,” Tubbo said calmly. There was no apparent disdain in his voice like there had been with Tommy, but there was still pain. Whether Tubbo was talking about the diner or the town, Clay wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter, though. He was leaving. 

“I know,” Clay said. “But I needed this to be given to Wilbur. Tell him I’m really sorry for everything. I don’t expect this to fix everything, but it’ll help.” He handed Tubbo the box that was tied with ribbon. 

“I’ll get it to him. You have my word.” 

Clay nodded as his thanks and took his leave. 

His next journey was the hardest of all, walking down the sidewalk lightly dusted with snow that reminded him of the ruined magic of last night. It crushed him remembering how happy he and George were last night together. He almost believed that they could work before his dreams were shattered by reality.

The square was completely empty, and the stall had been taken down, but the decorations were still up. The bows and lights and wreaths he had admired last night now were cold and taunting, forcing Clay to remember the joy turned humility of last night. 

He forced himself to walk away from the square and continue to his next stop, the animal shelter. No matter what George said to him last night, he needed to see him. He had a cat to take home, but he also needed to apologize. Facing him was the last thing he wanted to do, but he knew George deserved an apology as well, even if it wasn’t as good as his one to Wilbur. He didn’t have a gift to hide behind, to show his regret, like he did with the restaurant owner. All he had was himself and the box in his hand that wasn’t near enough. 

George was sitting behind the counter even though the shelter was empty of animals and customers. Their lights weren’t turned on and it was quite dark even with the sun shining in from the window. He watched with an unreadable expression as Clay approached. Before Clay could even say any greeting, he got up to say, “I’ll go get Patches.” 

Clay was quick before George could escape to the back, stopping him with his words. He reached his hand out, slamming it on the counter. The bracelet was still on his wrist, and Clay couldn’t help but get his hopes seeing what he thought could’ve been the bracelet he’d given George peeking out under his sleeve. “Wait, please.” George stopped, but he was hesitant. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry. What I did to you and Wilbur was terrible in so many ways, and I’m doing all I can to try and make it up to you. But I also know it’s not that easy. I deceived you when all you did was show trust and kindness. Neither of you deserved that at all.” He put the box on top of the counter. “It’s nothing to compensate for what I did, but it was something I forgot to give you.” 

He didn’t say anything before unboxing the gift, lifting up the cheap star, treating it as if it was fine china. “A tree topper?” Clay nodded. 

“I forgot to give it to you that day after… we went to the, uh, farm.” The memory felt like a fresh wound that hurt when he spoke of it. 

“It’s blue and gold,” George observed, looking around at the red and green ornaments on the tree and adorning the walls. “It doesn’t match the rest of the decorations.” The barest hint of a smile was on his lips, but seeing it made Clay’s heart speed up a mile a minute. It let him think that maybe things weren’t broken beyond repair. 

“I know,” he began, taking a deep breath. “But I thought, since you can’t see red and green well, that you would like something you know you can see clearly.” 

George silently examined the plastic tree topper, running his fingers along the sparkly ornamentation of it. “Thank you,” he said, letting a little bit of sincere gratitude seep in. He set it down on the counter before resuming his professionalism that was obviously forced. “I’ll go get Patches for you now. She’s ready to go.” 

Clay nodded feeling a little sad there wasn’t more to say. There was actually a lot more he wanted to tell George in case he never saw him again, but it was too soon. It was better to leave thinking he was partially forgiven after his apology rather than stay to fuck up something else by saying something that seemed insincere. He would have to settle. 

He was leaving with a cat carrier and a small bag of cat food before he could even think about anything else. “Goodbye, Clay,” he heard like a whisper in the wind. A piece of him told him he imagined it, but the greater part that had become a bit of a dreamer in the last few days made him turn around to see the door of the shelter closing. 

He was glad to have Patches. At first, he thought that all he would want to do is forget about this place and all of the memories he had made for nothing, but he was also reminded that coming to the town wasn’t all in vain. Even though the memories might hurt to remember or turn stale in a few years, he learned a lot in his short time here. Hopefully, Patches could keep his feet on the ground for a little while longer. 

On his way back to the inn, he was stopped in the middle of the street. Wilbur almost tackled him with how much force he used to stop Clay in his tracks, the open gift box in his hand. “Are you serious?” he asked with wide eyes. In the box of torn apart shredded paper, the piece with Wilbur’s signature on it was on top. 

“Yes,” Clay told him which made Wilbur close his eyes and take a deep breath. “The contract was never finalized because the other party never received it. It’s now null and void.” Clay couldn’t help but take a peek inside the diner to see both Tommy and Tubbo watching out of the window with wide smiles on their faces. “I’m sorry for everything I put you and George through. I’m leaving today, so you never have to see my face again. Good luck,” he said as a farewell, but Wilbur stopped him.

“Wait, you and George aren’t…” he trailed off when Clay shook his head solemnly. “What?! That’s crazy! I mean-“ he was cut off by a car honking at them trying to get by on the street. They both flushed in embarrassment and moved their conversation to the sidewalk, out of the street. “Listen, you don’t know George like we do. He’s never been that… obvious! None of us have ever seen him in love, but we sure as hell know what it looks like now,” Wilbur couldn’t help but chuckle at the realization. 

Clay was overcome with both anger and sadness, forced once again to think about what could have been if not for his own actions. “You didn’t just have the conversation I did with him last night or just now. He never wants to see me again.” He pushed Wilbur away and began walking back to the inn. 

“Then here’s my Christmas gift to you Clay,” he said, which made Clay stop. “He does.” 

\---------

Spending Christmas Eve alone in his apartment had always been Clay’s goal once upon a time. Sometimes, being with his family felt insufferable with his mother’s smothering and the lack of his other siblings being there. He’d much rather stay at home, maybe cook or get takeout, and watch whatever was on TV or Netflix without anyone else there to bother him. 

Patches helped a little this year because she was actually very cuddly and demanded to be close to Clay at all times, but he found himself wanting something more. Something different. It hurt because he knew exactly what it was, but his mind kept him from calling George. Obviously, he didn’t want to see him or talk to him ever again, and Clay had to be okay with that. But being alone in that moment was too much for him in that moment. 

He never decorated his apartment for Christmas ever, and he was realizing it was too cold for him. Even the view from his sky rise and large windows that overlooked the city now seemed foreign and obsolete. It left him with an incomplete and uncomfortable feeling because of how lonely he felt when simultaneously he was around so many people. Strangers like him. 

It took him exactly 23 minutes of wallowing in his own self-pity in the dark to work up the courage to pick up his phone. It rang two times before the sweet familiar voice on the other side put him at ease. “Hello? Clay?” his mother said into the phone. 

“Hey Mom. I’m back from my business trip,” he paused, needing to take a deep breath to settle his nerves. It had been so long since he confided or felt the need to find comfort in his mother, but he immediately felt better thinking of her smile on the other end of the line. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

“Merry Christmas Eve, honey,” she said warmly. Clay stood up and padded across the floor to turn on his lights, but they only seemed to make the atmosphere more severe. 

“I know it’s sort of late, but… d-do you mind if I come over?” he asked, feeling the need to get as far away from his apartment as possible and be with a loved one. It felt like the aftermath of the last few days were coming down around him, making him rethink everything he knew about his life. 

“Of course not, sweetie,” she insisted with a breathy laugh that squeezed at Clay’s heart because of how familiar it was. He would never forgive George for how much the other had come to mean to him in such a short amount of time. “You know the door is always open.” 

“Thanks mom,” he paused again. “I have a lot that I need to tell you,” he admitted, almost shamefully. “I’m leaving now. I love you.”

“I love you too. Be careful.” 

Clay smiled.

After making sure Patches was situated and every electric was off, Clay locked up his apartment and went on his way to see his mother. She lived in one of the far suburbs of the city, but he found he was extremely grateful to be away from the city’s lights to where he could see at least a few stars in the sky. 

Her house stood out among the other houses on the street to Clay, and he frowned at the sight. While the other houses were decorated with lights and yard decorations, his mother’s house had only the regular lights on, a plain wreath on the door and a plastic Santa in the yard that the family had had since Clay was young. The only car in the driveway was his mom’s gray Toyota. Suddenly, he knew how his mother must have felt all those Christmases and other holidays where he made excuses as to why he couldn’t come, and he felt the regret swirling deep in his chest. But, he was here now. He only had a couple of years to make up for. No big deal.

Before he could even knock on the front door, it swung open and his mother pulled him into a hug. It took a second for Clay to register what had just happened, and before he could react, his mother pulled away acting sheepish. “Sorry, Clay. Just got a bit excited because I haven’t seen you in a while,” she said as if she were embarrassed. 

Clay didn’t say anything, but he brought her close, holding onto her tight as if he were afraid of losing her. “I missed you, mom,” he admitted into her shoulder. He found he had to keep tears from appearing in his eyes. 

She softened greatly and reached to hold him, rubbing his back to soothe him. He couldn’t help the tears from escaping his eyes thinking of how his mother truly hadn’t changed. When their hug broke apart, he tried to turn away so he could discreetly wipe at his eyes that were wet, but she caught him before he could, looking at him with sad eyes. “Oh, Clay. What’s wrong, honey?” she asked softly, using her thumb to wipe at his cheek. 

He sighed an uneven breath thinking that he should’ve known his mother would have snuffed him out. It was one of the reasons he had been adamant about not spending the holidays with her because she could read him better than anyone else could, and it scared him. After sitting down and being handed a cup of his mother’s hot chocolate, Clay explained everything of importance to her. Whenever he was hiding or lying about something, she could tell and stopped him immediately. It was a bit tedious, but by the end, Clay felt like he had a huge weight lifted off of his chest. He truly told her everything.

“It sounds like you love him,” she told him and his heart stopped at the thought. He knew his mother would never lie to him whether to make him feel better or not. But he was afraid of the thought of being in love with George. He was scared Goerge wouldn’t want him anymore after what happened. 

“I- I think I do,” he said shakily. “But he won’t want to see me again. Not after what I did to him and his friends. I ruined his life.” 

“I think you’re giving yourself too much credit, Clay,” she said in a playful, joking tone, smiling into her own mug. “You can’t ruin the life of someone you just met.” 

Her son groaned in frustration, throwing his head back so it rested against the wall behind the couch where he sat. “God, why is life so frustrating,” he complained loudly, suddenly feeling the need to just scream to let out some of the pent up frustration. 

His mother changed where she was sitting so she was now sitting next to her son. She patted his thigh comfortingly as he groaned loudly into his hands. “Maybe it wouldn’t be so frustrating if you just went to him,” she suggested in that mother-knows-all tone. Like she knew it was full proof. 

“I can’t just do that,” Clay huffed, trying to keep from getting frustrated at his mother. She didn’t deserve his temper tantrum. She dealt with them plenty when he was a teenager. “Like I said, he hates me. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have yelled at me like he did. Not that I didn’t deserve it,” he trailed off sadly. 

She smiled sympathetically before taking his half empty mug and getting up to put them in the sink to be washed later. When she came back into the living room, Clay was laying on the couch in a fetal position with his head against the throw pillow that was in the middle of the couch with his legs tucked close to his body. She sat next to his head, running her fingers through his hair, knowing it was something that soothed him. 

“You know, when you were a boy, you had so much determination and passion. Whenever you set a goal for yourself or said you wanted to do something, you did everything you possibly could to do it,” she told him. “It was all good until you were six and were determined you’d use the chainsaw to bring down the tree that was blocking the view from your sister’s window.” The memory got both of them laughing.

“I’m not sure what you’re getting at,” Clay said eventually when she didn’t continue. 

“I’m saying that you haven’t changed, Clay. Everyday I saw you face adversity head one with so much determination and grace. If you and George are really meant to be, if you both really love each other, you will find a way.” 

He didn’t respond immediately, obviously thinking over what she was telling him. “So, do you think I should try to see him again?” 

She smiled, bringing her hand to the side of his face. It was answer enough for him as he was quick to put his jacket back on and his shoes. “You know,” she began, watching as he frantically got himself ready to go back to his apartment. “Christmas is a really good day to forgive or be forgiven.” 

Clay was almost out the door before he realized what she was saying. It would be crazy if Clay made the drive that night because he would arrive in town past midnight. If he appeared on George’s doorstep or even just showed his face in town, it would be a bit weird. He would have to wait until tomorrow. “You’re right,” he sighed before realizing something for himself. “Would you want to babysit your new grandkitty tomorrow for me?” 

-

He was driving home when it started becoming a blizzard outside. Heavy snowfall obscured a lot of his view and stuck to the road which made him set his car to a crawling pace. If it were to continue and be like this tomorrow, not only would they have a white Christmas, but Clay might not be able go to see George. The thought of showing up the day after Christmas was just sad to him, so he did the only thing he could think of and called Karl’s number. Hopefully, he could get Christopher to drive him as the car was an SUV and could traverse snow better than Clay’s sedan, and Christopher freaking drove for his living. He was bound to be a better driver than Clay. 

It rang multiple times, each one making Clay more nervous thinking Karl wouldn’t receive his message in time, before it was picked up. “Yes?” the voice on the other end of the line asked. The first thought that went through Clay’s head was that it definitely was not Karl, but it was familiar. 

“Christopher?” he asked, confused as to why the hell the driver picked up the phone. He knew for sure he had dialed Karl’s number. “What the fuck? I called Karl.” 

The man laughed with a deep bellowing sound that came straight from his belly and was joy filled. Dream recognized that laugh from every Christmas story and movie made ever. He was thoroughly confused, half convinced he should just hang up and bang his head against the steering wheel a few times for good measure, but Christopher spoke again. “What can I do for you, Clay?” he asked in a way that made him guess he already knew why Clay was calling. 

“I need to see him tomorrow,” he said quietly, meekly. The man was silent on the other end. Clay was half convinced he could hear jingle bells in the background. He laughed again, but it was much more joyful and knowing.

“I will pick you up tomorrow, Clay. Merry Christmas Eve.” 

-

Wilbur watched as George stared into his coffee cup, stirring it aimlessly. He had tried to get George’s attention in any way he could, but everything he tried turned out to be useless. It was quite a sad sight, especially with no one else in the diner since it was Christmas day and everyone was with their families. In retrospect, Wilbur was glad he decided to keep the diner open (even if it was literally just him as he gave the other guys the day off) because if not, George would be sulking alone in his loft above the shelter. At least now he could be with him and look after him. Luckily, the day was almost over with the sun beginning to set over the horizon. After today, everyone would hopefully go back to normal, and maybe they’d have time to forget.

It was painfully obvious that George wasn’t over Clay and the events that transpired just two days ago. Wilbur also knew that George wasn’t one to act on his emotions as easily as he did with Clay. Usually, he is much more cautious and reluctant when it came to actions that weren’t completely thought out beforehand. It was strange and almost jarring seeing George fall head first into whatever they had. Now, Wilbur was afraid that he’d never give love such as that a chance again. 

He set a plate of English biscuits in front of him, knowing that George truly did prefer English biscuits to American biscuits. He hoped that his glare of warning when George just stared at them conveyed his message enough. Luckily, it seemed he did because he picked one up and nibbled at it like a mouse. Not a huge step in the right direction, but it would do for now. “I know what happened really hurt you. It did for me too, but he really-” 

“Please,” George interrupted before Wilbur could go too far. “I don't want to talk about it. Not today.” Wilbur sighed but complied. He didn’t have anything to do else to do when George obviously didn’t want to talk. No one else was in the diner, and no remaining chores had to be done. He didn’t want to just sit on his phone as it would be too obvious that he was worrying about George which was something the brunette hated. But leaving him alone on Christmas when he was so distraught over the events of the last couple of days was too tragic. He ended up wiping down the tables and the counter a couple of times, never going so far as to be out of eyesight of George. If he needed him, he’d be there for his friend at the call of his name. 

He was wiping down one of the tables near the large window for the third time that afternoon when he thought he saw the ghost. His eyes probably looked bugged out of his head, watching Clay at the corner of the street. He was watching the diner with an uneasy look, and when their eyes met, Clay looked genuinely afraid. George still had his eyes on his cup as if it’d make a run for it if he turned away, so Wilbur assumed he hadn’t seen Clay. “Hey, um, I need to go take care of something real quick. Do you mind holding the fort down here until I get back?” he asked, positioning himself so if he did look up, there would be no way he could look out the window. 

He didn’t look up, but responded with a quiet, “yeah, sure.” 

There was no way anyone was going to go to the diner so he wasn’t worried, but hopefully it would get George to stay until he got back. He wasn’t sure what he would do if George left to go back home. 

After grabbing his scarf and coat, he ran down the street to where Clay was thankfully waiting for him, though nervous. He was playing with the bottom buttons on the flannel he was wearing when Wilbur approached him. Before he could even say anything, Clay rushed out, “was what you said true? I mean, do you think George would,” he paused, gulping a little, “forgive me?” 

Wilbur let out an endearing sigh because the two really were so unaware. “Yes, I do. No matter what you might think, Clay, you’re not a bad person. Yes, what you did was shitty,” he put a hand on Clay’s shoulder before he went further into his self-deprecating headspace. “But deep down we all know you’re a good guy. You wouldn’t’ve torn up that contract if you didn’t care. You have dedication and you’re loyal. George knows that. I hate seeing a long term friend of mine punishing himself, and I know you’re doing the same to yourself.” 

He took a long moment to consider and think about Wilbur’s words. If only he could see the poor sulking man Wilbur left in the diner, but the gears in Wilbur’s head were turning. Out of everyone, George deserved the best Christmas, and he had an idea forming of just how to make that happen. 

“What do I do next, then?” Clay asked, a new bout of determination evident in the way the sadness seemed to melt away. 

“I have an idea. Go back to the inn, and stay there until Nick tells you. I’ll call him before you get there.” Rather than question, Clay nodded and turned to head towards the inn. Once he was an earshot away, Wilbur fished his cell phone out of his pocket and opened his contacts. It didn’t take long for Nick to pick up. “Hey, it’s Wilbur. Are you and Darryl free tonight?” 

“Yeah, why?” Wilbur couldn’t help but smirk to himself as the picture solidified itself in his mind. He really was a romantic genius. 

“Clay is back in town for the day, and he’s on his way over. I have an idea to surprise George, but I still have to call some more people.”

“Okay, sounds good. What do you need from me?” 

“I need your pickup truck and a shit ton of blankets and pillows.” 

_

It was 10:52 at night when George was awoken to harsh banging on his door. He groaned after coming to the conclusion that he would not be allowed to go back to sleep when the knocking didn’t stop. And he didn’t think that this year’s Christmas could get any worse. He shuffled through his bedroom and closer to the door, and as he got closer, he could hear his name being yelled out along with the knocking. “Oh Georgie! Gogy? GEORGE OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR!” Tommy shouted on the other side which only made George feel a headache coming on. 

He opened the door, hoping his scowl portrayed his intended message which was could only be described as “fuck off.” Most times he could handle Tommy being Tommy, but he was really pushing his buttons tonight. To no one’s surprise, Tubbo was with Tommy blushing from the second-hand embarrassment. Luckily, George didn’t have neighbors as he lived above the shelter. 

“Merry Christmas,” Tubbo greeted kindly with an excited smile.  
Tommy just said, “have you been naughty or nice,” with a look that made George want to barf.

“Ignore him,” Tubbo said, pushing Tommy out of view. “We have a surprise for you, but you probably want to change, first.” 

George was so tempted just to slam the door in their face and go back to bed, but Tubbo seemed genuinely excited about the surprise. George never quite understood Tommy, but he seemed more hyper than usual. Then one should be at 11 at night. 

To indulge them, he groaned and invited them in, leaving to change. “And wear something nice!” Tubbo called out as he headed back to his bedroom.

“I’ll wear what I fucking want to wear,” George yelled back, sick of everyone’s bullshit. First the whole thing with Clay that had been making him feel like the biggest idiot in the world, then Wilbur acting like a giggling school girl with a secret after he returned to the diner earlier, and now these two appearing on his doorstep. All he wanted to do was go back to bed and not wake up for ten years, but instead, he changed into a thick jumper and jeans. He didn’t know how “nice” Tubbo was expecting him to be, but he was quickly running out of energy to care. When he reappeared, Tubbo had no complaints, so he took it as he looked okay. 

The two seemed to spur into action once he came back into the main space of the apartment with Tubbo fixing his hair and sticking a breath mint in his hand and Tommy grabbing his coat, scarf, and hat that he kept by the door. “Can you two tell me what the fuck is going on?” he asked as he shrugged on the coat Tommy handed him.

“Nope,” Tubbo said, popping the p. “But it won’t take long for you to find out.” He followed them down the stairwell that led into the shelter and saw that the decorations had been turned on. It made his heart clench at the fond memory he had had with Clay now tarnished. The decorations, he couldn’t help but admit, were still beautiful. He immediately saw the gorgeous blue star that sat atop the Christmas tree which was the worst thing in the whole room. He’d have to take it all down tomorrow.

As he was led closer to the front door, it became clear what they were wanting him to see. Through the large front window, he saw Nick’s pickup truck decorated with garland and lights on the street right outside. He didn’t hesitate going out of the shelter to approach and ask what Nick was doing, but he froze seeing who was in the passenger. 

Clay just looked at him a little sheepishly while George couldn’t stop the whirlwind of emotions from spiraling within him. He had half the mind to haul Clay out and tell him to go home, but the other half wanted to hug him and forget about everything that had happened. Wilbur had told him what Clay had done and that he had forgiven him because he genuinely regretted his actions, but something in George’s mind said that it wasn’t the same. He had truly trusted Clay, loved him maybe, and his betrayal hurt more than anything. Wilbur could have blamed George if things had turned out worse and then what would George do? Would Clay have defended him and taken all of the blame? Originally, he would have said that he would, but it was proven that he really didn’t know Clay as well as he thought he had. Now what was he to do? 

“What are you doing here?” George asked, deciding to pursue a sort of middle ground. 

Clay got out of the car and stood so they were looking into each other’s eyes. He hated how much he missed looking into Clay’s yellow (green) eyes. “I know I already apologized, and I’d do it a hundred times again if that’s what you want, but I couldn’t live with myself knowing I hurt you. If you’re okay with it, I’d like to spend Christmas with you. If not, I understand, and I’ll leave right now.” 

Poor Clay looked so lost and unsure, and George found that he didn’t like the look on him. It was unnatural on him like he’d never stepped out his comfort zone like this before. If he did tell Clay to leave, he could go back to his apartment and just sleep, but he was unable to say no. What his heart wanted, wanted the moment he saw it was Clay, was too undeniable. One night. One night, and he would know his true feelings. 

He took Clay’s hand wordlessly and was heading towards the cab of the truck, but he was quickly stopped by Clay. “Actually, we’ll be riding back here,” he told him, bringing him to the back of the truck. He could see now that many fluffy blankets and pillows covered the floor of the carriage with two large pillows against the cab. 

He was a bit hesitant, but it was also so romantic it made his heart flutter. Clay was the first to get in, mostly to demonstrate how since they didn’t want to release the back panel, and George followed. Clay offered his hand which made George flush when he took it because it was harder for him to get in than it was for Clay because of their height difference. 

“Y’all ready?” Nick called out from the driver’s seat. They were sitting with their back resting on the pillows against the cab, and Clay shouted back a yes. The truck lurched as Nick began driving but slowly rolled as Nick drove no more than a few miles per hour. Clay grabbed a blanket that had been squashed against the side of the pickup and draped it over their legs and torso. When he looked over, he noticed Tommy and Tubbo were still in the shelter with their hand against the glass, watching them with beaming grins. When George made eye contact, he rolled his eyes but had a fond smile on his face. 

It was awkward as neither knew what to say. Nick had his window rolled down so they could hear the radio that was playing only the classic Christmas songs. Other than that, a tense silence blanketed over them. George was still unsure of his stance with Clay. What they were. What they could be. He had been so torn between never wanting to see him again and resent him for what he had done and forgiving him and falling back into his arms like a fainting princess. Before, it was a lot easier because he never thought he would have to see him again. Clay was supposed to have left and never returned.

Now, with him right next to George under a warm blanket looking the way he didn’t under the Christmas moonlight, it was a lot harder. “Patches is doing good, in case you were wondering,” he said to break the silence. George smiled. “She did well on the car ride home, and my mom is the cat sitting right now.” 

“That’s good,” George replied to keep the conversation from being one sided. It would have been painful if their whole conversation in such a romantic pretense had been so awkward. “How is your mother?” That didn’t mean George wasn’t grasping at straws. 

“She’s good. I saw her yesterday, and we caught up. It was good.” 

“Jesus Christ,” Nick spoke. “If you two are going to be anymore awkward, I’m literally going to speed this truck up so you two are thrown out the back.” The threat made Clay laugh while George blushed because it was hard for him. He felt like he had been tossed into confronting what had happened with Clay when, before, he was content with gently poking at every so often with a 4 foot long stick. 

“I’m sorry,” he found himself saying. 

Clay was genuinely confused with scrunched up brows and a frown on his lips. “For what? You didn’t do anything wrong. It was me.” And maybe he didn’t, but it seemed to settle some of his nerves.

“For what I said. That night. It was a bit of a heat of the moment thing, but I regretted it the moment I said it.” 

Clay took his chin and moved it so they were looking into each other’s eyes. He seemed to do it a lot which made George want to hate him, but he couldn’t deny the butterflies in his stomach every time. “Please don’t apologize. You don’t have anything you should apologize for.”

George paused to try and unravel the tangled feelings settled in his stomach, but the longer he waited, the more there were that arised. “Then I’ll say thank you.”

“You say that a lot,” Clay told him, still confused. He probably wanted to tell George that he shouldn’t be saying that either, but George was sincere this time. It was a lot easier to say than “I love you.”

“Are you cold?” Clay asked, probably noticed the way George drew his coat closer into himself despite the blanket. It had been a bit more of an instinctual behavior, but he had become suddenly aware of the cool air against his hot face. Clay didn’t wait for a response as he picked up another blanket and draped it over George’s shoulders. 

“Thank you,” he said with his voice barely above a whisper. He decided he was done fighting it, and he gave into temptation, moving closer to Clay and tucking himself into his side. One hand gripped at the side of the blanket to keep it close to him while the other wrapped around Clay’s waist and held tight, afraid of letting go. The sudden movement made Clay tense before quickly melting into the cuddling. Both of his arms wrapped around him, pulling him close so they fit like puzzle pieces. George exhaled into Clay’s chest which his head was laying against, letting his eyes drift closed.

All he could feel was the wool of Clay’s jacket beneath his cheek and against his one hand. There would sometimes be a small bump in the road that Clay and George could feel immediately, but the ride was mostly smooth. He had no clue the route Nick was taking or even how long they had been sitting there like that with Clay’s hand running aimlessly through his hair in a repetitive motion. It was easy to let himself drift close to sleep with the smooth motion of the car, the feeling of Clay’s hands in his hair, and the soft music that barely filled his ears. It felt like the first time in a while where he felt he could actually breathe. 

Before he could fully fall asleep, Clay was easing him awake with quiet words and a hand rubbing his arm. He blinked awake with a yawn, seeing where they were. Nick had apparently just gone in one big circle as they were in the town center now. If Clay hadn’t woken him up, he definitely would have been woken up by the cheers coming from the small crowd near the edge of the plaza. He could spot Tubbo, Tommy, Wilbur, Quackity, and Darryl. Most of the cheering was coming from Tubbo, Tommy, and Quackity while Wilbur and Darryl mostly just smiled and hollered. George flushed wondering just what did they think they did in the back of the truck. 

After they got out of the back of the truck, George noticed that the decorations of the square had been turned on. When he had gone to bed, they were turned off. He didn’t have long to think about it, though, because his hand was in Clay’s, and he was leading him towards the gazebo. A horrifying sense of déjà vu erupted in his stomach, but slowly he convinced himself that this was nothing like that night. Clay was here after everything had laid itself out, and George found he was glad. Hating Clay (or convincing himself he hated him at least) had taken such a toll on him. Now he knew Clay deserved to be forgiven. 

They were in the center of the gazebo, and George looked up to see the familiar branch of mistletoe. “If we’re interrupted again, I don’t think we'll be able to deny fate any longer,” Clay couldn’t help but joke with playful eyes that made George want to melt. He’d be perfectly content looking into those eyes again every day for the rest of his life. But for now, they had the present, and Clay wouldn’t give that up for the world. 

“When I first arrived to Holly Grove, I thought the only thing that I wanted, that I would ever want in life, was success in a field that would fulfill me. Then I met you, and I realized that none of it really mattered because you showed me what it means to be generous and passionate about something bigger than myself. Because of you, I know what it feels like to be loved,” he held George’s hand and brought them close to his heart when he said, “and what it’s like to love someone back.”

“You really are magic, Clay,” George smiled, and he successfully kissed Clay. Both hands were on the side of his face, keeping Clay close to him as he felt the passion and devotion hidden deep in his heart surge forward and into their connected lips. Clay’s arms were draped around him, never intent on letting him go again. The loud catcalls from their friends on the sidelines faded into the background, and Clay only felt George and their love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You've reached the end of the story :')
> 
> Who knows I might add an "epilogue" one day because it ends rather abruptly (this is genuinely an if) But I do have thoughts about what would happen after the last scene including Clay having to stay in George's apartment for the night because his room at the inn ~conveniently~ had already been given to someone else  
> Anyways, I really hope this story could bring you some joy whether you're reading this at the time I'm publishing this or sometime in the future :) I really loved writing this story. It might be the longest thing I've written in a short amount of time and I'm pretty proud of it
> 
> Wishing you the happiest and safest holidays ☃
> 
> \- Kashmere ♡

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, you made it to the end of the chapter! I hope you enjoyed :) 
> 
> Updating schedule: Right now the plan is to update every Friday and Sunday (skipping the 13th because there are only 5 chapters) but that is up for change. Basically, my only hope is to upload a chapter (hopefully the last one) on Christmas 
> 
> Quick question: does anyone know if Patches is a boy or girl? If someone knows and could tell me, that'd be lovely. If not... I used she/her pronouns 
> 
> Also for future reference, I get a lot of my info off of the youtube wiki so yeah blame that
> 
> If you'd like to contact me my tumblr is the same as my user here (@pillarsofdreams). I probably won't be posting on it much, but if you'd ever like to talk you can reach me there!
> 
> Comments, constructive criticism, and feedback in general are always greatly appreciated! (sorry my proofreading skills suck)
> 
> Happy Holidays ☃
> 
> \- Kashmere ♡


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